


The Taint

by Dreamylys



Series: The taint [5]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-06 12:31:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 74,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamylys/pseuds/Dreamylys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When two very unconventional scholars combine their knowledge of the darkspawn taint, the consequences could be life-shattering for Alistair and his queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A royal welcome

The double doors opened silently when she reached the top of the stairs. She sighed, braced herself:

"The Queen of Ferelden!" boomed the loud voice of the herald. "Arlessa of Amaranthine, Warden-Commander of Soldier's Peak, and Hero of Ferelden!"

The crowd shifted in a murmur of chiffons to create a passage through the vast hall to the throne, and every head bowed deeply as she passed. Her warden-commander armour clanged noisily, the two-handed sword Starfang banging on her greaves in rhythm with her steps.

Alistair was sitting on his throne, looking regal, and snappy, with his crown sitting slightly askew on his head. She tried not to smile when she noticed how tight he was grasping the arms of his throne. He was keeping himself seated, because she had taught him time and again that it is not very kingly to run across the throne room and whirl her around in his arms. Some of their most loyal subjects threw knowing smiles at her as she passed them. They had noticed too.

"Still, it is an improvement," Bann Teagan breathed when he bowed in front of her. She smiled at that, unable to hide it, then looked up at Alistair. Maker, did power make this man attractive!

He made a move to rise when she got to the stand, but she shook her head slightly and he laid back with a soft sigh. She got on one knee before him: for all her titles, and despite what the herald had said, she was still only his queen-consort.

"Welcome back, my queen!" he shouted. She lowered her head to cover her smile.

He leaned towards her, and in a much lower, intimate voice, he said:

"Please tell me you have something important to say to me in private?"

"I have a matter of the upmost importance to bring to your immediate attention, my king," she said clearly, and heard a man laugh out loud in the noble crowd. " _Good_ ," she thought. " _Arl Eamon is here._ "

Alistair jumped on his feet:

"The queen and I will now be leaving to…" he paused, looking at Kaylee, who was shaking her head again. "Ah… no, we will stay here and discuss important matters of the throne! Clear the hall! This session is adjourned!"

As the crowd moved slowly towards the doors, Kaylee rose to her feet, searched for arl Eamon and gestured for him to join them. When the hall was deserted, she gave the old arl a gentle hug.

"I'm glad to find you here," she told him. "I was wondering if your obligations would allow you to stay a while longer and act as regent once more? It is possible that Alistair and I will have to leave together for a while."

Alistair looked at her, but didn't ask.

"Of course, my queen," Eamon said, smiling. "Nothing too dire, I hope?"

She started shaking her head, but stopped:

"I… don't know yet," she said. "Now, I'm very sorry but I will have to catch up with you a bit later. I really do need to speak to my husband."

He bowed and walked out by one of the side doors. She turned to face Alistair:

"What now?" he asked.

"Now…" she smiled and took his hand. "Now we go hide in our apartments, like you so desperately want to do all day."

He cupped her face in his palms and leaned to touch his forehead to hers:

"I am so glad you're here," he sighed, and kissed her.

* * *

"I can see you missed me," she said, sprawled across the bed, her head on his naked chest, listening to the sound of his heart slowing down steadily.

It was almost worth it, to be away from him for a short while. Almost. She sighed and hugged him closer. He kept silent, gently stroking her hair.

"What's this?" he asked, finding a recent scar on her scalp. She shrugged.

"Training accident."

"A recruit got you? Maker, we're getting old," he chuckled. "You were at Soldier's Peak, then," he said after a while. "Training new recruits?"

"Yes… and no."

She paused.

"I found the Architect," she whispered.

His hand stopped caressing her hair.

"He is in the tower. With Avernus."

Alistair remained silent for a while, then got up slowly.

"I feel like I should be dressed for this."


	2. Two unlikely scholars

They were sitting next to each other on comfortable chairs, both all dressed. He had a servant bring some antivan wine and she was sipping cautiously, staring at the bottom of her glass. She had had weeks to prepare herself for this conversation, but she was still unsure where to begin.

"I got a letter from Avernus, asking me to come see him. He insisted on complete secrecy. I didn't tell you because… well, with that secrecy thing, you would have wanted to come along. And… you couldn't."

He nodded, unsmiling. He could sense something big was coming.

"I felt him as soon as I got close to the peak. The recruits didn't, they are still too new to the taint. Nathaniel felt him too, but Avernus told him he had procured darkspawn for his experiments. He didn't investigate. Told me the tower gives him the creeps. He was not with me when we met the Architect, so he didn't recognize the sensation. But I did."

"What's the Architect doing at the peak?" Alistair asked softly. Kaylee rolled her wine cup in her hands.

"He's working. With Avernus. They put their researches together."

Alistair waited. She finally raised her head to meet his eyes.

"Avernus was working on a way to make the powers of the blood stronger within Grey Wardens," she reminded him. "And the Architect worked on the resistance to the taint in Grey Wardens, so he could pass it on to darkspawn, to free them from the calling of the Archdemon."

He nodded. He could tell she was trying to make some kind of point, so he could understand without her having to spell it out. But he was truly at a lost. She sighed.

"When they compared notes, they… combined objectives. They found a way to make the Warden's resistance to the taint even stronger."

He gasped, then, and leaned towards her:

"Are you saying…"

He stopped. It was too much to hope…

"They found a cure, Alistair. A cure for blighted people. A cure for the darkspawn taint."

He stared at her, breathless, then grinned broadly and jumped to his feet:

"But that's wonderful news! Why did you sound so ominous? It works, yes? Tell me it works!"

"It works", she replied, but did not smile. He sat back slowly.

"What is it then?"

"What I haven't told you yet is the reason why Avernus asked  _me_  to come see him before he made this discovery widely known. The cure… it can also remove the taint in Grey Wardens. Make them… normal."

"You… did you tell him you didn't want to be a Grey Warden anymore?" he whispered, incredulous.

"No!" she exclaimed.

"Well… do you still want to?"

"It is not about what I want," she said shaking her head. "It is about what needs to be done. He called me to him because he wanted to propose the cure to me first. But only to me. He's not going to make this information public. Not the cure itself, but the fact that it can… reverse… the Grey Warden condition."

"But… why?" he said. They had talked so much about that, about their responsibilities. They had agreed they would leave together for the Deep Roads, when the time comes. She had never wished she wasn't a Grey Warden. She even seemed to enjoy it, most of the time. To share this with him.

"Just imagine" she said, "if there was a way out of the Grey Wardens. Remember the Joining, the dreams, the promise of very short life and inevitable painful death. We only learn of these things afterwards. How many Wardens will turn their back on the lifestyle if offered the choice after the Joining? And Wardens are necessary."

"Yes, I know that," he said. "I meant… why did he want to offer the cure to you?"

"Because, Alistair," she said, and took his hand, looking him in the eyes and taking a deep breath. "We need an heir."

He stared at her wordlessly. Maker's breath…

"It's Morrigan, isn't it? She's back to put my bastard on the throne?"

"No! Morrigan said we did not have to worry about that, and I believed her. Not because I have confidence in the goodness of her heart (she snorted), but because I strongly believe she has far greater plans than the throne of Ferelden for your… offspring."

She could not bring herself to say "your child".

"Do you only know" she asked him, "how many people a day ask me if I'm pregnant yet? It's been a long time, Alistair. If we did not succeed yet, I do not think we will. And we need to secure the bloodline."

"I do love it when you talk dirty to me," he smirked, but his heart wasn't in it.

"We need to keep Ferelden united, to prevent a succession war. You told me that once, remember? They expect an heir."

"Yes, but… I would never have thought it would implicate that kind of choice," he said. "Mostly, I was thinking… you know… lots and lots of... lampposts licking."

"Yes, well… we would still need that, of course."

She smiled softly, then sighed.

"Avernus knows this. He's been at the center of civil war already, and it cost him everything. He does not wish to see the land torn again in a battle over our succession. It will not be prettier than what we witnessed at Orzammar. Worse, probably, and far more widely spread. "

She fell silent after that for a while. Alistair could sense she was not out of bad news.

"There's another thing… having an heir… it could work if I was the only one to take the cure. But it would have a lot more chances of working if we both…"

He made a gesture to stop her. He was not ready to hear that. He got up and began pacing.

"By the Maker, is that why you asked arl Eamon to stay? You want us to do this?"

"I don't!" she blurted, and she seemed to fall apart at last. "Please," she begged, "please just tell me we're not doing this, and we won't. We'll follow your lead instead. I will be the one to bring the grim news and then wait for the hard decisions to be made. It will make for a nice change. I won't even criticize you or judge you or anything. Just tell me we're not going to do this."

He bit back his witty remark and looked at her. She was on the verge of tears. It was the first time since her Joining that he heard her complain, that she let him see the unbearable weight of the burden they had all placed on her shoulders. He sat back beside her and took her hand. And he made the hard decision:

"I'm sorry, love. We're going to have to. But I'm telling you this: we'll do it together. And think about it… think about what our sacrifice means… it means we're having a baby! Our own little family. And we will get to watch our children grow up. We'll die of old age, in our bed, holding each other's hands."

Her tears started flowing then, but she was smiling. She got up and sat in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck

"Let others be the heroes of the future. We did our part. Time for the next generation," he whispered in her ear.


	3. On the road again

"I can't believe I'm here," Alistair sighed, putting another log in the fire. He felt more alive than he had in years.

They had left the castle in the morning, before light, heavy cloaks over their armour, in complete anonymity, leaving Eamon with the task of announcing their departure to the court. All day on the road, Alistair found himself smiling. He couldn't help it. He would smell rich earth or freshly cut grass or some stew boiling on a farmer's cooking fire, and he would smile. Returning to life on the road was like reconnecting with a very old, very dear friend. Kaylee had been delighted to see him so happy.

It did not take long, however, before they learned they did not leave unnoticed. They heard a sharp bark behind them on the road, and suddenly her mabari was on their heels, jumping happily around them.

"Willow!" Kaylee said, astonished. "How did you…"

He sat before her and tilted his head, whining softly.

"I did not leave you behind again! Well, no, I guess I did…"

He gave a happy bark, then waited. Kaylee glanced back at Alistair, who was grinning his widest smile yet and nodding vigorously.

"All right, come!" she said at last. And Willow followed, with happy yips and little bounds.

When night began to fall, Alistair found a spot to set up camp. He insisted on setting the tent and the fireplace, gathering the wood, airing their bedrolls, even cooking. He was everywhere at once, and Kaylee was happy to sit back and enjoy.

"Are you kidding me?" said a sweet, slightly accented female voice. "Alistair is cooking? And it's lamb stew, I presume? What are you doing to me!"

Kaylee jumped up with an happy shout:

"You found us!" she cried in delight, and threw herself in the newcomer's arms.

"Yes, well… two warriors in heavy armour on a road with a dog that can't stop barking. Some spy I'd be if I had missed that!" Leliana answered, hugging back.

"Hey Leliana!" Alistair smiled, hugging her when Kaylee finally let go. "That's quite the coincidence, meeting you here. Ah… it's not, is it? Cause it would really be weird."

"No, it's not," she reassured him. "I got a very mysterious cloaked visitor yesterday afternoon who told me about your little trip."

Alistair looked at Kaylee, who shrugged, smiling:

"I need my girlfriend," she said simply.

"Is this going to become a girl's trip? Where you're both whispering and giggling and looking at me while I'm alone at the fire looking idiot?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Leliana said, slapping him gently on his breastplate. "Oh, do not misunderstand, we're going to do that a lot, of course, but you won't be alone at the fire! I got you the best conversational partner! Lots of male bonding for you! You're gonna gossip, share tips, compare… well… stuff."

Alistair eyed her suspiciously:

"It's not Sten, is it? Cause if you leave me at the fire and force me to make small talk or… compare stuff… with  _Sten_ …"

"And now I'm so happy," said a male's voice behind him. "I'm not the worst person he can imagine sitting by him comparing stuff."

Zevran was leaning against a tree, playing with his dagger, and a smirk made one side of his mouth rise when Alistair caught sight of him. With another joyous shout, Kaylee went to hug him, and he slid his arms around her, winking at Alistair, who frowned.

"Don't even think about it," he warned.

"As a matter of fact, I'm not, my dear friend," he assured him. "Did you not hear the news? I'm thoroughly monogamous now. Completely taken. A waste for the ladies and gentlemen of the world, surely, but what can I say? She dominates me."

"Really?" Alistair scoffed. "A girl got a grip on you, Zevran? She must be something else to put up with…" he stopped when his gaze fell on Leliana. Was she… was she  _blushing_?

"It's… it's you?" he breathed. She met his eyes with some defiance:

"What?" she said defensively, then shrugged. "I love him."

Alistair looked at Kaylee, who was nodding at him:

"You knew?" he said, astonished.

"Since yesterday only," she said. "And then… you know… things got busy."

"Don't tell me I'm stepping on your toes again, my friend," said Zevran with a hint of a smile, taking a few steps to wrap his arms around Leliana. "This one is not yours, yes?"

"Wha…? I… No! It's just… well, you two sure took your sweet time!" And he finally smiled. "I'm happy for you both," he said more seriously.

"Good! Now that this is settled," Zevran said, walking towards the fire, "let's see what we can salvage from Alistair's cooking".

The girls went aside to set up Leliana and Zevran's things, and they were already babbling away when Alistair turned to look at them. Zevran was bent on the pot bubbling on the fire, mixing in some herbs. With a sigh, Alistair joined him:

"I'm telling you one thing right away, though," he said to Zevran's back. "We are NOT comparing stuff."

Zevran smiled.

* * *

"We really have a lot in common," Leliana confided in Kaylee, who raised a doubtful eyebrow. "We do," she assured her. "I'm not really the sweet girl you met at the chantry, you know. I thought you knew that by now".

"Still…"

"I was trying to be, you know, the girl I thought I should be. But I'm not that girl. I'm not the wild, uncaring bard/spy/assassin I used to be either. It took me some time to find a middle ground, to really figure out who I was. But I can't just make my past disappear, live as if it wasn't part of me. I wasn't fair to myself. There is violence in me, and deception, and strength. This doesn't mean I'm a bad person. You taught me that. It took me a long time, but it sank in."

"Yes, but… Zevran?"

"He's the same, in a lot of ways. Trying to make peace with a past he doesn't want anything to do with anymore, a past filled with violence and betrayal. He's not quite there yet… I hope I'm helping. It was you who got through his armour, though, you know?"

"I know," she sighed.

"But it was I that mended his heart."

Kaylee smiled at that.

"There is… something you must know," Leliana added cautiously. "Zevran… he told me. About… about the night before the march on Denerim. And if you don't want to talk about it, it's fine, I just… it's only fair that you should know that I know."

Kaylee's jaw clenched:

"No. I don't want to talk about it."

* * *

"I am glad we have this chance to talk in private, my friend," Zevran said, stretching his legs and bringing his feet closer to the fire. "There is a matter I've always wanted to discuss with you."

Alistair looked at him warily, and Zevran chucked:

"Aren't we past this, now? No more jealousy between us. I have everything I need," he sighed, his eyes lingering on Leliana, sitting by his tent talking to Kaylee.

"All right," he said. "What is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"I believe there is something you should know," he said. "Something I'm pretty sure our Grey Warden friend did not tell you. And I think we should stick together now, you know? Two lovers of women way stronger than us."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know about Morrigan's ritual," he said. "I've known since the night it took place."

Alistair choked on the water he was sipping:

"What? How?"

"Because while you were with the sorceress, Kaylee came to me."

* * *

"So then he told you he would do this with you?" Leliana sighed. "He's such a romantic."

Kaylee nodded, smiling.

"So, how does it work? What will you have to do?"

"I… I don't exactly know. We'll see when we get there."

Leliana narrowed her eyes at her:

"Are you lying to me? How could you be lying to me? Do you think I cannot detect a lie, especially when it is thrown at my face?"

Kaylee sighed loudly.

"I haven't been entirely honest with Alistair about that. At first, I thought I would be going through this alone, so I figured he did not need to know. And after… well, it seemed too late. I'm sorry Leili, but I can't talk about it to you until I come clean with him."

"Then… just give me a clue. Please?"

She hesitated, then took in a deep breath:

"It's going to be painful. And maybe… maybe even dangerous."

"By the Maker… Kaylee, you need to talk to him!"

"I know," she whispered miserably. She reached out to seize her friend's hand. "Leili, I'm so afraid!" she sobbed. "What if I lose him?"

"How can you think that?" she said, horrified.

"Because if I have to tell him the cure could be dangerous, I'm going to have to explain how it could be… even fatal… to me. And he won't like the reason."

Leliana stood silent for a while, then leaned to embrace the trembling body of her friend.

"But he won't leave you, you silly, silly girl," she whispered. "You're everything to him. And he's a man who understands… necessity."

Kaylee backed away slowly and peered into her friend's gaze with astonishment:

"You know what I did? How… how could you know?"

"I saw you do it. I was there when you got back in the tower. I wasn't even hiding. I was simply following you. I don't even know how you did not see me. But you were really… preoccupied. And when I saw you drink, I… I hid, then. Because I figured you would not want to talk about it, or know someone had witnessed it."

"And… you did not judge me?"

"Oh, I did a little judging all right," she chuckled. "You know me! But I understood. I knew you felt like you had to do anything to win, to give you an advantage. And I figured… you know… that it was partially our fault. Because we all always put so much pressure on you. So I kept quiet."

"And you really think Alistair will understand as well? He is so…  _just_."

"I even think he already knows,  _ma chérie_. How did you explain to him the new powers it gave you?"

"I told him it was a new berserker trick Oghren taught me. He never asked… oh Maker… he never asked why Oghren was not doing it himself… He knows, doesn't he?"

Leliana said nothing.

* * *

"She… came to you? Why?"

"I will answer that, don't worry. But this is not what we need to talk about now."

"It's not? Because I kind of want to talk about that."

"No, no, no, this is the part I know. I want to talk about the part that I don't."

"What? What does that mean?"

"I mean your part, of course."

"Em… no, I definitely don't want to talk about that!"

"Oh but we will, my friend. We will because I think you really need to. And who else could you say it to without suffering very harsh judgement?"

"I… I don't know what you mean."

"Then let me be clear, Alistair. This night with Morrigan… did you enjoy it?"

"What? No! Of course not! Worse night of my life!"

Zevran said nothing, waited. The outrage on Alistair's face faded slowly, and then he seemed to collapse upon himself, hiding his face in his palms.

"Yes," he breathed. "Yes, I did! By the Maker, how could I? What kind of man am I?"

"See? This is exactly why you need to talk about this with me. Because I won't judge. And because I'm the only one who can give you some kind of closure at that."

Alistair peeked at him through his fingers:

"This isn't going to get sexual, is it?" Zevran smiled.

"Well, it is going to be about sex so… yes. Why, are you propositioning me, Alistair? If so, I am sorry, but you miss your chance many years ago."

" Not funny."

"What I meant to say was that I can provide some information as to why it was so. And maybe help you feel less guilty."

"How so?"

"You see, Morrigan figured it would be very difficult to convince you to do the deed. And she knew it would be even more difficult to get you… enthusiast enough to actually do it, particularly since you hated her so. She was a sly little minx, our sorceress. She knew she needed to learn how to… em… excite you."

"What?"

"She spied on you. You know, in your tent. She spied on both of you. With a creative little spell she got in Flemeth's grimoire, that allowed her to cast an image in a pool of water. She learned how your lover was touching you, where you were the most receptive, so that she would know all of your weak spots. And then, all she had to do was play you like a harp. To touch you like  _she_  would have, whisper things  _she_  would have said."

"Holy Maker! I could never have known… I mean… Kaylee was the only one I had been with. I just thought… I just thought it was always like this. That this was how it was done."

"Oh, believe me, it can be done many, many ways," said Zevran with a smirk. "Some of them I only just discovered recently…"

"Wait… how do you even know she did this?"

"I surprised her in a little… spying session one night. She made me promise I wouldn't tell you two, and in exchange…"

"Yes?" Alistair said suspiciously.

"In return, she let me watch. Sometimes."

"You did WHAT?"

Zevran raised his hands as if trying to protect himself from Alistair's wrath.

"Now, now. I have done far more shameful things in my life, and I'm not even ashamed of those. Plus, I did not know why she was doing that. I just thought she was a little perverse, which would had fit her profile, wouldn't you say? And besides, (he shrugged) I thought I loved Kaylee then. This is the only reason I let Morrigan convince me."

This got through his red veil of anger.

"You…  _thought_  you loved her?"

"Yes, well, I'll be getting to that in a minute too. But what I'm trying to say right now is… you do not need to feel ashamed for being aroused by Morrigan's touch. Because… you know… it was not really hers. She played you. And she played you very well, from what I could see. She did learn quite a lot."

Alistair stared thoughtfully for a while, then exhaled slowly:

"I still think I should not have enjoyed it so much. But you're right… it feels better to know that… that it could not be helped. I'm so happy I'll never see that witch again in my life…" he whispered angrily. "You know, she told me I would not hate it quite so much as I believed… yeah, she would have known, wouldn't she?"

"Oh yes. She would."

"And you know… Sometimes, after that, when Kaylee would touch me, or look at me a certain way, I could not help but remember…"

"I'm glad I could help, my friend. Because I do not think you will enjoy the rest of the story as much."

"Is it time to ask why Kaylee went to you that night?"

"Yes, I believe it is." He waited.

"Then… why?"

"She heard you, Alistair. Through the door. She heard you express your, ah… pleasure. Very loudly."

Consternation made him speechless.

* * *

"So, Alistair and you… you won't be Grey Wardens anymore?"

Kaylee shook her head.

"But nobody can know. Wardens cannot know there's a… a way out."

She didn't say "cure". To her, being a Grey Warden was not a sickness.

Leliana bent over her lute silently, letting her fingers run idly on the strings.

"It does not seem fair", she said finally. "To keep this a secret from the other Grey Wardens."

"That's because it's not. But there are… very compelling reasons. I'm sorry I can't say more."

"No, I'm sorry. I should have learned to trust your judgment by now. And I know it could not have been an easy decision."

"This was not my decision, although I can understand the motivations behind it. Avernus was the one to discover the cure. He's a Warden too, so he knows… he decided."

"But you… would you take it? You know, for yourself? If you were not obligated to?"

"No," she said softly after a while. "I don't think I would. It is so much a part of who I am now… it was an honour when it was offered to me, and it still feels like it. And… it made my life what it is now. I wouldn't change it. But what we will have, when it's done… children, a family, a chance at a long life… I want this."

Leliana nodded, then resumed playing her instrument.

"What about you?" Kaylee asked. "With Zevran. Do you have… plans?"

"We're not quite at the "plans" stage yet", she chuckled. "We're still trying to figure out how to take care of ourselves without a fearless Warden to lead us. But, you know… who knows."

"It's strange, the thought of you two together. You just seem too… sweet and naïve."

"Oh, but I am so not sweet," she said, laughing. "And so not naïve. Zevran thinks he is a master of seduction, but between our sheets… let's just say he is not the teacher."

"Em… really?" she said hesitantly.

"Oh yes. Why? Would you like some advice?"

"Well… if we're trying for family soon, it might be good to avoid routine…"

"All right," Leliana said, smiling. "Let's swap stories!"

* * *

"Are you serious?" Alistair breathed

"As serious as I can be. Which is quite a lot, actually. Surprising, no?"

"Don't… don't joke now. She heard me?"

"Yes. Quite clearly."

"And… she went to you?"

"Yes. She was… a little upset."

Zevran could see her in his mind's eye like it was yesterday she barged into his room at the arl's palace, shaking and crying and collapsing on the floor… but this he would not tell Alistair. The poor lad could hardly feel worse than he already did, and the purpose of the discussion was to make him feel better… or as well as possible while telling him the truth, of course.

"And… what happened?"

"What do you think happened, Alistair? She felt betrayed and alone, and I thought I was in love with her. She came to my room wearing almost nothing, and as for I, I had only a sheet to conceal my nakedness. What happened? I gave her what she needed."

Inexplicably, the more Zevran was talking, the more Alistair's face brightened:

"So… nothing, then?"

Zevran narrowed his eyes at him, then sighed softly.

"Worse than nothing. I rocked her in my arms while she sobbed and screamed, and then I got her to lie down in my bed. She told me everything in between hiccups, and then she finally fell asleep wrapped in my arms, while I stayed awake all night, afraid to move, kissing her hair and cursing your name. That made the hard walk to Denerim a real joy the next couple of days!"

Alistair was staring at the ground, hard.

"I would have no right to be upset if she had decided to… you know. But still… thank you."

"I can assure you I had nothing to do with it," he protested, but he smiled. "How did you guess?"

"I figured if something had happened, it would have been the first thing out of your mouth," he said.

Zevran opened his mouth to protest, closed it, then grinned.

"You are probably right."

They sat in silence for a while.

"You know, I'm glad we can talk like this now", Alistair said suddenly. "I'm glad there's no more bad blood between us."

"Yes, it has been quite enlightening, hasn't it? Does this mean we get to compare stuff now?"

"Ah… no, not yet. But you still haven't told me about the "I thought I loved her" part."

"Ah, yes, I promised this to you, didn't I? Let's see… how do I begin this…"

His gaze wandered around thoughtfully, then caught something. His eyes widened wildly.

"What in Andraste's name are they doing?" Alistair whispered at the same time.

On the other side of the camp, Kaylee had removed her armour and was lying on her back. Leliana was bent on top of her, one knee between her legs, and she was moving her hand up and down the lying body, without touching, whispering in Kaylee's ear as if she was explaining some kind of tickling technique. Kaylee's head was slightly raised to follow the moves, and they could clearly see the intent, attentive expression on her face. Leliana leaned in even closer as if to kiss her, lying down completely on top of her, still talking, and then rolled them over so Kaylee was on top, sitting on her thighs.

"What is that?" Alistair said dreamily. Zevran eyes were glowing brightly and he smirked.

"I believe Leliana is showing our lovely queen some new tricks, all the while playing some enticing and very cruel game with our minds."

"I'll say…"

* * *

"Are they looking at us yet?"

With her head slightly raised, Kaylee could look at the two men without being suspicious.

"Yes," she said, not betraying her amusement on her serious face.

"Good. This should work to your advantage."

She leaned closer.

"Then you do that thing we talked about earlier…"

With a swing of her hips, she rolled over and got Kaylee on top. Her face hidden from view, Kaylee could no longer repressed an amused smile.

"And if this doesn't do the trick, you come back to me tomorrow. We'll try something a little more…  _risqué_."

Kaylee got up and helped Leliana on her feet. The men were already approaching them.

"Yes, it is getting late, isn't it?" said Kaylee. "Are you tired, my love? Perhaps we should retire to our tent."

"Oh yes. So very tired. Yawn. Good night!"

Leliana smiled as she watched them both get in their tent. Just beside the entrance, she spotted Willow's eyes in the shadow, two bright points that reflected yellow with the fire's light. Zevran closed in, embracing her from behind, leaning his chin on her shoulder.

"That was… interesting," he whispered in her ear. She chuckled.

"I thought you'd like that. Just a little bard technique I was teaching my friend."

"And could you teach it to me now?"

"You already know all about it," she breathed, turning to face him. They kissed softly in the moonlight.

* * *

She was easing into it, falling into some familiar foreplay, when he stopped her, catching her by the wrists. He seemed so ill at ease, it worried her:

"Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing. It's just… Maybe we could try something… new?"

She smiled. Leliana was, indeed, a master.

"Funny you should mention that…"


	4. Soldier's Peak

The top of the tower was the first thing they could see when they emerged from the tunnels. They had all turned away from the newly reopened commercial road and chose to get to the peak the way they did the first time. This trip had been all about reminiscences. It was so good to travel with old friends again without the impending doom of the Blight over their heads, they didn't even mind when they got lost a little and spent a few more days in the tunnels that was necessary.

When they got at the gates, Kaylee took Alistair's hand and made him slow down a bit, letting their friends get ahead:

"Listen… there is something you should know before we go in there…"

"Oh. I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"I'm so sorry I did not talk to you earlier. It was just… so good, to see you happy, on the road again. I wanted you to be able to enjoy these moments. I know how few they are."

"Okay, but we're here now. What is it?"

"The cure… it's going to hurt. A lot."

"I see. I suspected as much, to tell you the truth. Can it kill us?"

"No… I don't think so. That is, I don't think it could kill… you."

"Are you trying to say that… that it could kill  _you_? Why would it?"

"Because the taint in me… it's stronger. By a lot."

"But how could that be? I've been a Warden longer…"

He paused, then, and looked at her intently.

"It's true, then. You did get back in that tower to drink Avernus's infamous concoction. I thought you might have, when you went back in alone."

Her head lowered slowly.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "Do you think less of me?"

He took her face gently in his hands:

"I can never think less of you. Every time I think I cannot love you more, you show me how much you deserve it. To think about everything you sacrificed about yourself to bring us to victory… (He sighed) We're going to need to build you an even bigger statue now."

His smile faded rapidly.

"What is harder to accept is that I might lose you because of it…"

"I'm strong," she said, taking his hands in hers. "I can do this. I can… if you're here with me."

They walked through the gates and into the courtyard, side by side, not touching. Wardens recruits were hard at work. Nathaniel came to them, smiling.

"Warden-Commander," he said, bowing his head to her.

"Seneschal Howe," she answered mockingly.

"Stranger." he nodded at Alistair, who had put his hood back.

"Ah ah," said Alistair. "Very funny."

"Come on in, the four of you."

" _Wrrrrufff!"_

"Oh, I'm sorry, the five of you."

"How are things at the peak, Nathaniel? How are the recruits faring?" asked Alistair as they were crossing the dormitories to the stairs.

"They are good, but still too few. The… em… success rate of the joining is not as good as can be expected."

Leliana and Zevran seemed to understand their presence was not welcome for this conversation, and took a few steps back, following at a distance. Nathaniel continued, with more ease:

"Only two of the last seven recruits survived the Joining ritual, and I had to kill three of them myself when they understood what they would have to do. It seems as though a lot of the potential Wardens are thinking that it is a good time to join in on the glory without getting in too much danger. Without the dark clouds of a Blight over our heads – or, you know, talking darkspawn - , the urgency to provide capable Grey Wardens is not as overwhelming."

Alistair and Kaylee exchanged a worried glance. Nathaniel caught it and continued quickly:

"But, you know, the ones here who actually got through the Joining… they're doing really good in training. Young Katan can't stop boasting about how he almost split the warden-commander's head in two the last time she was here."

"It was only a small scratch. He barely touched me," she mumbled, and Alistair had to smile.

They got into the open area of the second floor, where a bunch of camp beds and bedrolls were being set up.

"Avernus told us to prepare some beds for the sick," said Nathaniel. "He said he was working on some sort of cure for a blood disease or something, and that soon, sick people would come in great numbers to be treated."

"This is actually why we're here, Nathaniel. Perhaps we could talk in your office?"

"Sure," said Nathaniel, surprised, and led the way. Alistair turned around to realize that Zevran and Leliana had not followed them to the second floor. Shrugging, he entered the warden-commander's office, where Nathaniel was working, and closed the door behind him.

"What's going on?" Nathaniel asked, sitting at the desk. They took chairs in front of him. Alistair and Kaylee had already discussed this, and had come to the conclusion that at least one warden must know about them. One that could absolutely be trusted with such a secret.

"So, Nathaniel," Kaylee said. "How are things with you? Are you happy?"

"Em… yes. I think so. I'm doing a pretty good job, here, and I like it a lot. My sister and her husband came here with me. After the destruction of Amaranthine, they did not want to go back and start all over again. They were lucky, I guess. They were on their way to come visit me at the keep when the darkspawn attacked the city, so they survived. They have installed their shop next to the blacksmith, Dryden. I get to see my nephew everyday."

"You, know, I always felt kind of guilty, imposing this life on you. You did not join the Wardens willingly. I conscripted you. "

"You shouldn't," he said hastily. "This was the best thing that could have happened to me. To be given a chance to erase my family's past mistakes, to give back some of the glory to the Howe name… I could not ask for anything more. Plus, you know… the chance to kill lots and lots of darkspawn, even non-talking ones… always a bonus," he added, and smiled ruefully. "Did you know they put my uncle's statue back in front of the Amaranthine Chantry after they finished rebuilding it, at my request?"

"So… you don't regret it? Anything?"

"No, absolutely not," he said, and his tone was categorical. "I would not go back, even given the chance."

Alistair and Kaylee glanced at each other. Alistair nodded:

"You cannot know how happy we are to hear you say that," said Kaylee with a sigh.

Nathaniel suddenly looked suspicious:

"Okay… what's up?"

"If everything follows according to plan, Nathaniel, we will be promoting you."

"To Warden-Commander?"

"Ah… no. To our personal guard."

"At court?" He looked hesitant for a while, then a wide smile crept across his face. "Really?"

"Yes. But first, there is a lot of things we should explain to you. About what we have to do here."

"I'm listening."

* * *

When she was done talking, he sat still for a while, his gaze fixated on her. Then he took in a deep, loud breath, and run his palms slowly across his face, as if he was awaking.

"This is… this is…" He shuddered, and rubbed his face again. "Holy Maker…"

"We're sorry to burden you with this, Nathaniel," said Alistair gently. "But we need someone to know. Someone we can trust."

"You're going to have to stay with us," Kaylee added. "Because nobody can know we won't be Wardens anymore. We won't be able to sense darkspawn or dream about them. We won't get any of the information we are all supposed to share. You're going to have to tell us these things."

"And you'll need to be our liaison to other Grey Wardens. Any of them. They won't be allowed near us anymore, for obvious reasons."

He listened to them, immobile, his face hidden in his hands. When he lowered them, they saw that his eyes were shining with repressed tears. He fixed his gaze on Kaylee:

"You know… to think that  _you_ …  _you_ , of all people, would trust me with this…" He shook his head, unable to finish.

She reached across the desk to lay her hand on his. He took it and held it tightly.

"…it just goes to show me I could never have done anything more with my life to make it worthwhile."

"We will probably have to stay here for a while. It will give you time to make preparations. You have to find a suitable seneschal to take your place. He'll have to be especially qualified, because he will also be the unofficial Warden-Commander. I will abandon all my responsibilities to him, since I'll be a Warden no longer. And when I say especially qualified, I mostly mean: not Oghren."

"Oh, don't worry, Commander. I know exactly what you mean."


	5. Inside the Tower

Alistair took her hand on the bridge that led to Avernus's tower. They crossed it together, side by side. Inside, the maleficar was already waiting for them:

"Welcome again," he said to Kaylee. "Has the king accompanied you for moral support?"

"No," said Alistair. "I wish to take this… cure as well."

Avernus raised an eyebrow slightly, but showed no other emotion.

"Very well, follow me," he said simply, and they proceeded to his laboratory.

The Architect was there, already busy with various flagons and potions. There was an horrible smell in the air and Kaylee shuddered in anticipation of what was to come.

"I suppose… you have been told… about the risks?" he asked in his strange, slow, breathy voice. "After all… this has not been thoroughly tested… yet… for reasons… obvious enough."

Alistair nodded.

"Then please retire behind those folding screens, to remove your armours and slide into more comfortable clothing," Avernus said, handing them some straight white tunics.

They helped each other out of their armour, exchanging anxious and silent kisses in between pieces.

"I love you," Alistair whispered to her when they were both ready.

"I love you too," she answered hoarsely.

They walked out from behind the screens and sat down on the beds that had been prepared for them. Avernus approached them, holding a silver chalice in his hands.

"This is not unlike the Joining," he began, "except it will probably be even more painful, given that this time, we are trying to remove something from your bodies instead of… well, adding to it, in a manner of speaking. This is not the cure that will be offered to people affected by darkspawn blood. It has been treated with lyrium, amongst… other things, so that it can efficiently counter the effects of the Grey Warden taint."

"How does it work?" Alistair said.

"It will make your own resistance to the taint stronger. So strong that it will cause your body to physically reject the taint as something… foreign. The taint will then come out, by any possible way. The stronger the taint, the longer it will take. And if it has been… strengthened… in any way… (he glance sideways at Kaylee), it will grab on to your body and hold on, literally pulling your insides out as you struggle to get rid of it. What will happen then is… is anyone's guess. (He sighed) I never thought I would say this, but I almost wish you did not profit from my research."

Kaylee did not say anything, didn't even glance in the sorcerer's direction. Her gaze was lost in Alistair's dark brown eyes.

"Give me the cup."

The Architect slid closer to stand behind Avernus, as he raised the chalice to Kaylee's lips. He was holding another in his hands.

"For what it is worth… I'm sorry… you have to go through this," he murmured.

"You need to drink it all," Avernus said, and his voice was not without tenderness.

Kaylee drank it all. The taste did brought back memories of the Joining, and they were not pleasant memories. She forced herself not to gag.

When Avernus lowered the cup, she saw that Alistair was finishing the one the Architect had brought. They both lay down on the beds, looking at each other. When Kaylee reached across the distance between them, she could only touch his fingertips.

"Please come back to me," Alistair whispered. "I'm nothing without you."

Kaylee smiled.

"I lo…"

Everything went red.

* * *

"See? Now I've got you exactly where I want you."

"Don't you always, my sweet, sweet Orlesian seductress?"

Zevran was lying on his back, and she was sitting on his tights. He was acutely feeling the cold steel of her dagger against his throat.

"So? What now?"

"Do you mean you don't know?" she teased, and leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "Do you mean I beat y… oouuummfff!"

He took advantage of her less stable position. In one, swift movement, he pushed the blade away from him and spun her around, catching her two wrists in one hand and pinning them to the floor above her head. He was on top, now, and slid his own dagger slowly up her stomach to rest on her collarbone:

"Mmm? You were saying?"

She giggled, then arched her body in such an abrupt and violent way he was suddenly standing up. She raised her feet and struck him square in the chest, and he staggered backwards, allowing her precious few seconds she used to propel herself up. They were facing each other again, weapons in hands. He straightened first.

"Another tie," he said. "How many was it? I stopped counting."

She laughed heartily, then took her stance:

"Again! Come at me!"

"Am I the only one that's getting weirdly turned on by this?" Katan whispered to the recruit next to him, who shot him an embarrassed glance.

The recruits were all gathered around the two combatants, fighting each other in the middle of the courtyard. It had begun like an interesting combat training session, but had rapidly evolved into a very entertaining display of a wide range of skills. They actually applauded wildly when Leliana broke into Zevran's guard to grab him firmly by his armour straps and plant on him a kiss so passionate he actually dropped both his weapons in surprise. She backed away, smiling, one dagger pointed at his throat and the other at his groin.

"So?"

"You win,  _amora,_ " he said tenderly, raising his hands in surrender. "As it should be."

The crowd erupted in laughter, and some coins discreetly changed hands. Distractions were rare for the Soldier's Peak recruits.

Nathaniel burst out of the keep, Willow on his heels.

"Zevran! Leliana!"

They turned to face him, and the smiles slid away from their faces when they saw him alone.

"Already?" Leliana whispered.

"They got in a few minutes ago," said Nathaniel, out of breath. "They said they… they did not want to…" He hesitated, unsure of what exactly he could say in front of the recruits.

That was when the screaming started.


	6. To survive and to win

They did not stop for days.

The recruits had been told that the Commander and her friend had contracted a very rare, very lethal disease in their travels, and had to undergo painful treatments in order to get rid of it. But after two days and nights of horrible, inhuman howls of pain and terror, everybody knew something was very wrong. An heavy atmosphere hung over the peak. There were no more recruits training in the courtyard, the shops were closed, everyone trying to get a bit of rest every minute they could. The Grey Warden motto, traditionally recited everyday before breakfast, slowly began to sound like a prayer.

Nathaniel was rarely seen outside his study. He sent every single messenger out on missions unknown, and was trying to get things in order for his replacement, when he was not simply sitting numb at his desk, his head in his hands, wincing uncontrollably each time the screaming got louder. The worst parts were when they screamed together, and they did that a lot.

Willow spent all his days sitting by the door leading to the tower bridge, scratching helplessly at the base and whimpering softly. He sometimes joined in the howling, adding his own cries of pain to the ones of his beloved master. He refused to eat anything at first, drinking only a bit of water the recruits were bringing him. After a few days, he began to accept some choice morsels, and some of the new Wardens started to put aside their best pieces of meat to bring to him. He grew very weak quickly though, and stopped howling after a while. But he didn't leave his post.

Zevran and Leliana mostly stayed in their room, or sat in the common area with the rest of the men. All color gradually left Leliana's face, and she was like the ghost of the woman she used to be. When she woke up crying from the few minutes of restless sleep she was able to get each night, Zevran wrapped her up in his arms silently, every time feeling angrier at his own helplessness.

But after almost two weeks, what woke them up one morning was silence. They sat up in their bed, listening, waiting for the screams to resume. When they didn't, they looked at each other anxiously. At least, while they were screaming, everyone had known they had been alive…

They literally flew across the first floor and up the stairs to the bridge's door. Nathaniel was already there, fumbling with the key, and Willow was beside him, wagging his tail feebly. They ran across the bridge, into the tower, and busted the laboratory's door open.

The Architect was gently helping Alistair to sit up. The king's breathing was quick and shallow, his mouth opened and his eyes closed:

"How is she?" he whispered.

A dark, thick matter seeped through his closed eyelids and smeared his face, as if he was crying tears of black blood. Avernus was hurrying towards him, carrying a large bucket. He stopped short upon seeing the intruders:

"No! You should not be here!"

Alistair collapsed on the floor, landing on his hands and knees. The dark liquid was now also coming out of his ears, and dripping from the corners of his mouth.

"How…" he repeated, and heaved violently. Avernus quickly placed the bucket under his face, and they watched in shocked horror as the black fluid poured out of him. Leliana shuddered and hid her face in Zevran's shoulder.

"Get out!" Avernus shouted. "You are not supposed to see him like this!"

"We're not going anywhere!" answered Nathaniel angrily. "You're killing him!"

"I am not!" Avernus said, but shook his head and let them be. "Just make sure no one else comes in!" Nathaniel went back to lock the tower's door.

Alistair fell to the ground when he was done vomiting. Dark blood oozed from under his fingernails and toenails, and continued streaming slowly down the corners of his mouth and eyes. His tunic was stained with it from the waist down. The Architect helped him sit up and lean against the bed, then tried to wipe his face clean.

"What… what does it means?" Leliana whispered. "That he… that he is like this."

"It means it's working," said Avernus sourly, kneeling besides Alistair and lifting a small bowl to his lips.

"This… this is  _good_?" Zevran snorted. "What exactly goes on in that Joining of yours? This stuff is as dark and thick as…"

"…darkspawn blood." Leliana finished softly.

"What infamous concoction are you giving him now?" Nathaniel snapped.

"Chicken broth," Avernus answered coolly. "He needs strength. He survived only on lyrium for the past weeks."

A soft, heartbroken whimpering interrupted them. Willow was by another bed, licking frantically at a lifeless hand hanging from under the sheet. Leliana gasped, clutching at Zevran's arm.

The Architect got up and glided to Kaylee's side.

"What's happening to her?" Nathaniel asked, his voice raw.

"I don't exactly know," said Avernus. "She stopped screaming around the same time as Alistair, but she didn't move. Then I got… busy."

The Architect lowered a hand to her face and closed her eyes. His palm hovered over her heart.

"I believe she is in the Fade now".

"She's dead?" Nathaniel breathed.

The Architect picked up a little vial from his belt and moved to bring it to Kaylee's lips, but was stopped abruptly by the touch of a sword at his throat.

"Do not touch her again, darkspawn," Zevran warned, his voice cold as steel. "And think carefully about your next words, for they might be your last."

Avernus got up, opening his mouth in protest, and was quickly silenced by a deft, gloved hand landing heavily on his lips from behind. A second hand put a dagger under his chin. The bowl came clanging down on the floor.

"You let the man speak now," Leliana hissed. "Go on, love."

"So, what will it be, darkspawn? 'She's not dead' or 'I can bring her back' are the two choices that let you live through the next minute."

"She is not dead," murmured the low, calm voice of the Architect. "And I can bring her back. All this violence is… unnecessary."

"Nathaniel," Zevran said sharply. Nathaniel took two quick steps and lowered his cheek over Kaylee's mouth.

"She's breathing," he sighed. Zevran stood still for a moment longer before lowering his weapon. Leliana waited for his signal to do the same.

"I will never understand how she could trust the two of you with her life," Zevran spat.

"Understanding is not required of you," the Architect whispered. "If you trust her… you will trust she had her reasons."

"What's happening to her?" Nathaniel asked, his gaze fixed on her face.

"I am not sure," the Architect breathed. "She seemed to hold on to consciousness as long as… Alistair was suffering. When he screamed no more, she… let go."

"She's… giving up?" Leliana whispered. "She can't be."

"She's not," Alistair's voice said behind them. His tone was weak but steady. He had managed to bring himself up and was leaning against his bed, unable to walk. Nathaniel came to his aid, and Zevran took his other arm. They brought him gently by Kaylee's side. He sat slowly on the edge of her bed, taking her hand in his.

"She's doing what needs to be done," he murmured softly. His fingers rose to her face and he caressed her cheek tenderly. "That's who she is. She's doing the necessary thing. To survive, to win. My hero… my little princess… my fearless leader."

"Her body is still fighting the taint," Avernus confirmed. "We just need to make sure it stays alive… and she needs to make sure she finds her way back."

"She will," Alistair assured. "In the Fade… she has powerful allies."

"And powerful enemies," Zevran added gloomily.

"There is no need… for concern," the Architect intervened. "I can bring her back, when … the time is right. I will need to…"

A luminous symbol appeared under his feet, then exploded to form a shining prison all around him. His feet left the ground and he stayed suspended in mid-air, arms spread wide, head falling back. A silent scream opened his mouth.

"I got him!" said a victorious female voice, coming form the doorway.


	7. The things we do for love

Zevran rammed into her, and she went down with a "oummmphhh!"

"Velanna?" Nathaniel asked in disbelief. "What in Andraste's name are you doing here?"

"Maybe we can talk later?" she spat angrily. "Take this lunatic off me!"

She was lying on her stomach by then, her arms painfully twisted behind her back. Zevran held her there with his knee. "You know this woman?" he asked Nathaniel.

"Yes," he answered, sounding tired. "She was recruited in the Wardens by the Commander, in Amaranthine. Last I heard, she was in the Deep Roads looking for her sister. You can let her go."

"How did she get in?" Zevran asked suspiciously.

"Melted the locks. Let go of me already!"

Zevran released her, and she jumped to her feet, dusting herself.

"What is wrong with you people? I'm on your side!"

"Velanna, again, I must ask: what are you doing here?"

"I'm tracking him, of course," she said, pointing at the suspended form of the Architect. "He's the only lead I got! When I found out he was here, in Warden's custody, I couldn't believe my luck! And now he's trapped," she added, satisfied. "First, he's going to pay for what he's done. Then, he's going to tell me where my sister is, and release her!"

She glanced victoriously around, clearly waiting for approval. That was when her gaze fell on the unconscious form beneath the sheet.

"By the Gods, what's happening to her?" she gasped, running at her side. "Did  _he_  do this to her?"

"No," answered Alistair's cold voice. "She is sick, and  _he_  was helping her. Now she may never come back to us, unless you release the Architect from this prison!"

"He's… helping her? He's not a prisoner?"

"Velanna, please. Remove the spell," Nathaniel begged.

"I… I can't!" she exclaimed. "I spent years modifying this spell so it would be impossible to dispel! I could never have imagined a situation in which I would want to do it myself!"

"You did admirably, it seems," Avernus said. He had spent the last few minutes studying the prison carefully. "It is, indeed, impossible to cancel this particular spell."

"Then how long will it take to end?" asked Nathaniel. Velanna blanched.

"It depends. I modified it so it would last very long, torture him slowly and bring him within an inch of his death, before dissolving. It… it could take days. Weeks, if he can endure."

"By the Maker, Velanna…" Nathaniel breathed.

"How was I supposed to know?" she protested angrily. "He's a  _darkspawn_ , in a Warden's keep! And I saw this one put a sword to his throat not a minute ago!"

"Yes, it was always your style," Nathaniel retorted. "Hit anything that moves and don't ask questions until it is too late! You got the situation all wrong and acted on it anyway, once again! And now she may die and it is on your hands!"

"I'm sorry!" she cried. "But even if I say it a thousand times, it is still done! We need to do something! Surely there is another solution!"

"I can try and work on this spell of yours, maybe reduce the duration a bit," said Avernus. "But I can't promise anything. This… is not my area of expertise."

Nobody said anything after that for a while. They all silently gathered closer around the bed, staring at her motionless form. Then Alistair straightened up.

"I'm going to need more broth," he said. "And something solid, too. I need my strength back. And my clothes. And maybe a bath."

"Why?" said Leliana. "What is the plan?"

"To do what she would do, if it was anyone of us lying there instead. I'm going in. I'm going to look for her and guide her home. I'm bringing her back."

* * *

She woke up at camp.

She recognized the layout immediately. Tents scattered around the fire, Morrigan's second fireplace in the distance. Bodhan's little cart was there too, and the crates for gathering supplies. But the place was deserted.

She sat up cautiously, looked around. She could not see anything past the shimmering light of the fire. She moved her head slowly from side to side, stretched her arms and legs carefully. The unimaginable pain she thought would never end was gone.

"I did it," she murmured. "I'm in the Fade. Are you here?" she called out louder.

"I am here," said Wynne's soft, soothing voice. A cool hand stroke her forehead gently. "You look better already," she smiled, sitting down next to her.

Kaylee looked at her. She was so much like she remembered her, with her red robes and multiple belt pouches, her hair tied up neatly, a soft smile on her lips. Even her smell was the same, sweet aromas of herbs and spices. She sighed deeply, lay back and put her head in Wynne's lap:

"I've missed you so much," she sobbed quietly.

"I'm right here."

"When I heard you calling through the pain, when I heard your voice in my head, I could not believe it at first. But you were right. This is better."

"And I can help you. This should not be as hard as it is. I only wish I was still there with you. It would make things easier."

"The pain was so horrible, Wynne… like someone was digging its way out within my body. With very sharp claws. I thought it would never end, that I would die from it."

"You need to be strong, now. There is still much to do here."

Kaylee sighed and rolled on her side.

"Just another moment, please," she begged. "I'm getting old, you know. I need to indulge once in a while." Wynne stroke her hair gently. "The first time I was here, it was different," she continued. "Much less convincing. The first demon I saw, I called him on it immediately. Didn't even look like Duncan, and certainly didn't sound like him. But you… you're something else. I'm not one to ignore such good work."

"What did you say, my dear?"

"And the moment's over," she sighed, and sitting promptly, she shoved her dagger into Wynne's heart. The old woman arched backwards with a shriek, and Kaylee watched the beloved features of her friend morphed into the horned, purple face of a desire demon.

"How dare you," she hissed. "How dare you take her face!" She chopped her head off in one fluid motion of her greatsword.

She dusted herself, looked around, then started walking towards Morrigan's fire. As she suspected, the dim light was coming from a fade pedestal. She sat on her heels to examine the runes on it more closely, then set to work. She had someone to track down.


	8. The games we play

"Well, this one time, we met a Sloth demon that brought us into the Fade," Leliana said thoughtfully. "Maybe Avernus can summon one for us? You know, if he can control it?"

"We'd be stuck in its realm," Alistair said, shaking his head. "We need to be able to move more freely. Or to get in where she did."

They were all seating in the dining area, where Alistair, clean and fully clothed, was carefully eating something grey and undefined that may at some point have been stew. Avernus stayed back in the tower to clean up the place and study the crushing prison spell some more.

"Sleep, then?" asked Zevran. "A sleeping potion, or spell?" Alistair shook his head again.

"We will need to be aware."

"In the Blackmarch, a darkspawn named The First took us to the Fade with a spell that tore the Veil," said Nathaniel.

"Yes, well, the only talking darkspawn that could be willing to help us with this is slowly dying away as we speak," said Alistair sourly.

"I said I was sorry," mumbled Velanna through clenched teeth.

"But this is what we need to do, yes? Tear the Veil?" asked Leliana. "It was Avernus that tore it here in the first place, no? And he mended it, so he knows how?"

"I would prefer another solution," Alistair said. "He tore it by calling forth countless demons during a fight that can only be qualified as a bloodbath, and then lost control over them. So… you know, not my first choice. Opening the Veil again, here… we don't know what could happen. And mending it was not easy. But if we can't find anything else…"

"Well, there's the Harrowing," said a thoughtful male voice.

They all turned around simultaneously to find Anders sitting at the table next to theirs, chin resting in his palms. He raised an eyebrow at their astonished expressions: "What? I thought we were playing 'let's get inside the Fade'. No?"

"Anders! When did you get here?" Nathaniel exclaimed.

"A few minutes ago. Did you know the place looks like a ghost town? Not a soul to be seen. What have you done with the recruits, Nathaniel? Bore them to death with your bow's story?"

"My bow's story is not boring," Nathaniel mumbled.

"And then, you know, I got here, and I saw you all bundled up and mysterious, and I thought: 'What are the great minds of Ferelden up to?' Imagine my surprise… it's all about Veil tearing and demon summoning, which has me wondering where we are going as a society…"

"Kaylee's sick," Nathaniel cut him off. "She's inside the Fade." That shut him right up.

"By the Stone, what… what did you say? The Commander's dying?" Sigrun was at the door, her fist still raised to knock on the panel. She joined them, falling heavily on a bench next to Anders. "What happened?"

"Everyone, this is Anders and Sigrun," Nathaniel introduced. "You two know Velanna, and Alistair, of course. This is Zevran, and Leliana, I don't think you met them."

"We heard so much about you, it's like we know you already," Sigrun said, reaching across tables to shake hands. "She spoke very highly of you."

"They will be my replacement as Seneschal," Nathaniel continued. "The Commander said that… her duties at court will keep her away from her Warden-Commander post here, so I thought, between the two of them, they could cover both jobs. And also, who better than Anders here to handle the crazy apostate mage next door?"

"Oh, joy. Of course. Crazy maleficars, that's just my thing."

"What happened to the Commander, Nathaniel?" Sigrun repeated intently.

"She… all right, I'm sorry, I can't lie to you two. I won't feed you the story we told the others. But I really can't tell you what's going on. She had to undergo some kind of… procedure, incredibly painful, from… what we heard. Her mind seems to have sought refuge in the Fade. But… uh… we lost the means to get her back," he finished, glancing sideways at Velanna. "So we are looking for a way to get inside the Fade and bring her back."

"The Harrowing," Alistair repeated thoughtfully, as if he hadn't heard a word they just said. "Could it be done? With non-mages? Could it get us in the Fade?"

"Well, at the very least, we need someone who knows how it is done, no?" said Zevran. "Would Avernus know?"

"Well, he's a blood mage, so I'm guessing he did not climb up very high on the Circle's ladder before joining the Wardens," Alistair sighed.

"Hum… I know," Anders said. "I sort of… stumbled upon some papers in the First Enchanter's… hum… locked chest that one time? And I sort of… hum… made an accidental copy of them?"

"Oh yes, that sounds like something you'd do," Velanna said sarcastically.

"I thought I could blackmail them with it somehow, convince them not to come after me this time. Didn't work, but, you know… got it right here," he said, tapping his pack. "I think I could adapt it for non-mages. I'll need lyrium, though. Lots of it."

"I got lyrium," Sigrun said hastily. "I was in charge of supplying the Keep, because I know this smuggler in Dust T… oh, and look how I'm talking about smuggling lyrium in front of the freakin' king of Ferelden… sorry, your Majesty, you know, I brought my stock here because we need lyrium for the Join… oh wait, look at all the non-wardens here… I'll just stick my foot in my mouth now."

"Can we do this then?" Alistair asked.

"It is our best bet for sure," Zevran said. "And as for me, I have always had a soft spot for gambling when the stakes are high."

"I'm going to need time," Anders said. "I'm sorry, I understand time is a delicate issue right now, but there are changes that need to be done to the ritual itself. I'm not even sure I can do it right."

"Velanna can help you, I guess," Alistair answered coolly. "She's good at spell modification, or so I've heard."

"How much sorrier can I get?" Velanna grumbled, standing up to follow Anders and Sigrun in the seneschal's study.

"We will need to speak with Avernus as well, I'm afraid," Anders added when they were out of earshot from the rest. "I don't see how this could be done without blood magic. A heavy dose of it."

"Whatever, Anders. Do it. It's… it's  _her,_ " Sigrun murmured. "There's nothing  _she_  would not have done, if we were the ones in need of saving."

* * *

Kaylee put the last runestone in place, and waited.

Nothing happened.

She yelled out in frustration, throwing a handful of stones at the pedestal. She had been at this for hours, it seemed, and though the light around the pedestal had changed slightly a couple of times, the path she was looking for was not yet forming. She got up, dusted her knees, crossed her arms, and stared at the damned thing for a good minute. No more ideas crossed her mind.

"Of course, it is you. Who else could be playing with the very fabric of the Fade so lightly?" an amused voice chuckled behind her. She looked back over her shoulder without turning, moving only her head. She noted with some surprise that he still wore Kristoff's face.

"Took you long enough to get here."

"Yes, well. There is a lot of justice to be dealt in the Fade. I'm a busy spirit."

"There is some justice to be dealt here. You owe me, remember?"

"I will never forget." His tone was serious now. "I am sorry to learn of your passing."

"I am not dead. Not yet. At least I hope not."

She let her gaze fall back on the pedestal, felt him approach behind her, and stop. Was he… was he  _smelling_  her?

"You have the song of lyrium about you," he said with some surprise.

"Missed you too," she smiled. "Can you help me with this?"

His ethereal form glided beside her.

"It depends. What are you trying to do exactly? It is most unclear. I mean, apart from the hacking and slashing of demon's heads."

Kaylee looked around at the numerous demons corpses.

"They kept distracting me. Is it my fault they were foolish enough to come one by one?"

"Demons are foolish," he agreed.

"I'm trying to get out of this part of the Fade. There is someone I need to find. A former friend of mine. She's… passed away. I've been playing with these runes for a while now, but I can't seem to find the right combination."

"You have the right combination," he said. "It is simply not possible for you to operate the pedestal this way. This is the Fade you dreamed. You are not supposed to get out of it."

She stared at the device for a while. "All of this for nothing," she sighed.

"It is, however, possible to me," he added. He extended a hand above the pedestal, and the runes fused within the stone.

"Well, well," she said, surprised. "Not that I'm complaining but… was that just? Really?"

"Yes," he said, turning to face her. "It is just that I try to repay my debt to you. Just… don't destroy the Fade?"

"Oh my, was that…  _humour_?"

"My time in your world taught me a lot of things," he said carefully. "Especially when I spent so much of it with our fellow Grey Wardens." He took a step towards her, and his body took a more solid aspect. He looked just like Kristoff must have looked, before his death and the decaying that followed.

"This smell upon you… it is intoxicating," he whispered, leaning so close he almost touched her. She did not move.

"Well, this is the Fade, after all. I had dreams that began just like this," she smiled.

"I know," he said. "I've walked around here a lot."

"That is… uh… confusing. And flattering. And a little creepy."

"Well, you were the one that got me curious about the human experience. I thought I could learn more from you."

He took a last, deep breath, before reluctantly stepping back.

"This friend of yours, why do you seek her out?"

"She was the one to seek me out. At least I think so. I believe she can help me. And, Justice… if you're not too busy, I believe you should come with me. To talk to her."

"Why?"

"This friend… she was possessed by a Spirit of Faith. While she was still alive. Or it… kept her alive, it is still a bit unclear. Maybe she could… talk to you about that?"

His eyes flared.

* * *

"Wait," Zevran said. Leliana paused, one hand on their room's doorknob.

"What is it, love? Anders said everything's ready. They will be waiting for us."

"I know. It won't take long. It is only… it is something I need to do. Before we go jump into mortal danger once again." He was in front of her in one quick step and framed her face with his hands. Then he exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. She stood still for a second, unsure.

"What's this?" she finally asked, half-smiling, when he didn't move further.

"Shhh… no talking. It is only a little game."

"All right… I like games."

They stood still for a while, until Zevran exhaled loudly once more and opened his eyes to look at her. Without saying a word, he leaned in and kissed her. This was not like any kiss he had ever given her. He had never kissed her so… so  _seriously_  before. It started slow, unsure and careful, and then became pressing and hungry, with a taste of desperation. She felt her crushed lips part under his demanding mouth, and their tongues touched, ever so slightly. He moaned, but it was such a sad sound she began to worry. Then his lips soften on hers, and their embrace became so tender her heart began to flutter helplessly in her chest. When their lips parted, it was all she could do not to lean in again and bite at his mouth, tearing his armour off. He looked at her, his expression unreadable.

"So…" she said, her face flushed and her breath shallow. "Who won?"

"You did," he said tenderly, softly caressing her cheek with the tip of his fingers. "As it should be."

"Oh? Did I win something very big?"

"You have no idea," he said, and a hint of a smile appeared on his lips. He took both her hands in his. "I do," he said, his gaze diving into her eyes. "I really do."

"You do what?" she breathed. It was not like him at all, this seriousness, this intensity. He brought her hands to his lips, never letting his gaze drop.

"I love you."

Her breath caught in her throat. She had never hidden her feelings for him, but he had never said those words to her before. She was even pretty sure he had never said those words  _ever_. To anyone.

"Really?" she breathed, and tears flowed helplessly down her cheeks. She wiped them out angrily.

"Oh yes," he said seriously, wrapping her in his arms to hold her tight. He put his lips against her ear.

"I love you," he repeated, and she shivered all over.

"Holy Maker, we are going to die, aren't we?" she murmured. She felt his lips move on her skin as he smiled.

"Not anymore," he whispered.


	9. The Harrowing, revisited

When Alistair got to the tower, the laboratory was empty. The preparations for the ritual were almost done, and everything was set, but no one had arrived yet. Only Willow was there, curled up in a ball at his master's feet. The dog raised his head slightly, then lowered it back when he recognized the intruder. Alistair was glad to be able to enjoy those few quiet moments. Walking slowly, still feeling weak from the treatment he endured, he crossed the room to where Kaylee was lying. He knelt beside her and took her hand tenderly into his, his other hand stroking her hair gently. He lay his head on her arm, his lips on the back of her hand, and closed his eyes, listening to her slow, steady breathing. A discreet noise coming from the door made his head snap up.

"I'm sorry," said Nathaniel softly. "I didn't want to disturb you." He took a chair and brought it closer, sitting on the other side of Kaylee's camp bed. "Anders… he told us to come here, that everything was ready."

"I know, I was the first one he found, so I arrived earlier. I was just…" he let his voice trail, resumed stroking her hair. "I wanted to be with her."

"She'll be all right, your Majesty. I've witnessed firsthand how she deals with the Fade. I don't think any demon stands a chance. They are probably running away from her, screaming, as we speak. If they have any common sense."

"I know," he smiled. "I've seen her too. When she saved me from that sloth demon's lies… I didn't even have time to unsheathe my sword, they were all dead around me. And that was… well, many years ago. She's even stronger now. And please, call me Alistair. At least here."

"All right."

"That's the weirdest thing, you know. That I'm not really worried. When we were travelling across Ferelden, trying to stop the Blight and the civil war, still learning to know each other, it took me a long time to be able to trust her judgment. I loved her, right away, I think, but I didn't trust her. She would be talking to werewolves or cultists or assassins, trying to figure out her options, and I'd be like: 'You're not seriously considering this, are you?', or 'are you sure it is the right thing to do?', stuff like that. She would look at me without a word, or put me back in my place sharply, but she always did what she wanted. And the things she did… they were truly unbelievable. She was a leader born. But me… every single time, I'd judge her. No, trust… trust took a long time. The hardest thing was to trust she made the right decision by making me king at the Landsmeet. But then, she made herself queen with the same breath, and I knew I'd be all right."

"But you trust her now?"

"I do. Living with her, being with her, it changes everything. I got to know her so deeply, I know what every single one of her expressions means. I know when she doubts, when she's trying not to laugh, when her mind is so set on something nothing can make her change it. When I sent her to Amaranthine, I was not worried. And look at everything she did there… she was magnificent, even without my… constructive criticism." He chuckled softly. "She took me here, and I know there are some things about what we're doing here she did not tell me. It was in her eyes, in the way her shoulders tensed, all the telltales that she was keeping something from me. I don't care anymore. I finally trust her." He raised the back of her hand to his lips, tenderly kissing her warm skin. "I know it was probably her decision to take refuge in the Fade. I don't know why she did it, but she must have her reasons. I just want to make sure she finds her way back to us. Maybe, for some obscure reason, she trusted the Architect to do this for her. Now that it is no longer a possibility, I need to do something. But I'm not worried about what could happen to her."

"I see what you mean."

"I don't trust myself as much, though. If I can't bring her back… this I could not bear. You know, I turned out to be a pretty decent king, I believe. Everything's running pretty smoothly. No war, no Blight, good trade… but it is all for her. Everyday I wake up, go through meetings and paperwork and court sessions and formal balls, and I try to do it right by her. Don't get me wrong, I love my country, and I love its people, but at the end of the day, I do it for her. So I can be the man she sees in me, the man that can be worthy of her. And now she's the one that needs me, and I'm afraid I won't live up to her expectations. If she doesn't come back… I don't know how much of me will be left."

"She does bring this out in people a lot. This desire to be more, better, to elevate ourselves above the line, to be the best we could be. I could not believe my ears when she told me she wanted me by her side, at her back, a Howe, who originally came back to Amaranthine to kill her. It wasn't long before all I wanted to do was to prove to her she had been right. This trust she placed in me… some days, it still is the only thing that keeps me going, the only thing that makes me believe my family name can be redeemed."

Alistair looked at him, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it firmly. He looked back at Kaylee. "I am glad to hear it," he said finally, but his tone was cold. Nathaniel looked at him, then got up and put his chair back where he took it. Something he said had stuck a nerve, but though he couldn't guess what, he could feel the time for confidences was over.

"We should get ready. People will start coming in soon."

* * *

"Okay, took me a couple of days, but here we are. So, we begin with the bad news," Anders said nervously, rubbing his hands together. They were all gathered in Avernus's tower again, standing around some sort of basin that seemed full of liquid lyrium. In one corner of the room, The Architect still floated in his crushing prison, face distorted in pain.

"This should be good," Leliana whispered, eyebrows raised.

"Well, there are some of us that won't get to go," Anders continued. "Sigrun, you stay here."

"What? Are you kidding me, Anders?" she spat, jumping on her feet and taking a step towards him as if to strike. "Why?"

"Mostly because you're a dwarf. You're not sensible enough to lyrium to take the ritual. Plus, believe me, dwarves in the Fade… that never goes well. Willow, you stay here too. Because… well, mostly because I would have absolutely no idea how to figure this out. You know, because you're a dog and all."

Willow sat back and let out a sad, loud howl.

"Right there with you, pal," mumbled Sigrun, stepping back.

"Avernus, Velanna and myself will also stay behind, to ensure the Harrowing ritual goes well, and to take care of you while you're… away. We'll also see what we can do for the… situation," he said, motioning towards the Architect.

"So that leaves…" Leliana began.

"…us," Zevran smiled.

"Just like old times, right?" Alistair added.

"Yeah, just like old times. Plus, you know… me," Nathaniel said.

Alistair looked at him: "Nathaniel…"

"No! Don't you dare! I'm going!"

They stared hard at each other for a while, then Alistair's jaw hardened:

"As you wish."

"All right… don't exactly know what just happened here, but whatever," Anders said, taking a large metal cup in his hands. "And to continue with the bad news, I need to warn you that there will be blood magic involved. It is not usually the way I would choose, but given the urgency… You also need to know that not only is it blood magic, but also experimental blood magic. As in not tested. So, to sum up, I will now need some blood from the four of you, so we can perform untested forbidden blood magic with it."

They simultaneously removed one glove, extended their hand, and slid a dagger swiftly across the palm. "Oookay," Anders said, hurrying to get the cup under the bleeding wounds. When he had enough, he healed the scratches with a swift whirl of his hand, then took the cup to Avernus, who brought it to his working table and began incanting.

"This should ensure the ritual perceives you as mages. A little 'white lie' blood magic. We also used some of the Commander's blood in the making of the ritual, to try and get you inside the same part of the Fade she's in. Most likely, it will be the part where she goes when she dreams. From there, you should be able to locate her. It is possible that you will not end up at the same exact place. If so, try to find each other quickly."

"Why?" Leliana asked.

"Oh, and it is now time for the most interesting part of the bad news. I'm sharing Circle secrets here, so a little discretion about this, please. The Harrowing ritual includes a demon summoning. A demon will be called to your part of the Fade, and the ritual ends when you slay it. So, here is the tricky part… don't slay it. Not until you find Kaylee, anyway. Then, you know… proper slaying strongly recommended. When it's dead, hold on to her as hard as you can. It should do the trick."

"When do the good news start?" mumbled Zevran.

"I never said anything about good news," said Anders dryly.

"It is done," Avernus announced.

"Okay, so remember. You will most likely end up in her little piece of the Fade. It will be shaped according to her dreams. You will probably see some pretty… uh… private things. And horrible ones. Can't imagine what this woman has nightmares about… just remember that they are dreams. Unreal. Just find each other… and find her."

They nodded. Avernus approached them with the cup, dipping his finger in the blood and tracing a complicated rune on the back of one of their hands. The symbol burned their flesh.

"Ready?" Anders asked. They all nodded. "All right. Put your hand in the basin."

When they touch the blue glimmering liquid, the lyrium seemed to cling to their skin, crawling slowly up their arm. They all collapsed at the same time.

"All right, let's put them on beds. They might as well be comfortable," Anders sighed.


	10. Dreams of Leliana

Leliana opened her eyes. She was lying on a hard, cold ground.

She got on her feet and looked around. It took her only a second to recognize the horrible scene: the Broodmother's cave in the Deep Roads. It made sense, that Kaylee would dream of this. Every detail was still engraved into Leliana's mind as well. She had had nightmares about it for years too.

Alistair and Sten were there, busy beating down tentacles, while Kaylee hacked furiously at the main body of the Broodmother. With a prodigious jump, she got on top of the horrible creature and, gripping her greatsword with both hands, shoved her blade through its skull. The Broodmother shrieked and cried and trembled violently, before finally sitting still. Kaylee got down, wiped her blade carefully and hung it back. She looked around at her companions.

"Is everybody all… Noooo!"

She ran through Leliana and fell on her knees beside a body sprawled on the ground. Leliana saw with horror that it was herself, lying still in a pool of blood, broken bow in hand. Hespith's low, sinister voice resounded in the distance:

" _First day, they come and catch everyone…"_

"Go get help!" Kaylee yelled.

"But…"

" _Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat…_ "

"Back at camp! Get Wynne!  _Run_!"

Both warriors turned heels and hurried down the tunnels.

" _Third day, the men are all gnawed on again…_ "

"Talk to me, Leliana," she whispered. "Where are you hurt?" Kaylee's hands ran on the bard's body, undoing her armour, checking for wounds. When she got her helmet off, she gasped.

"Oh, Maker, no…"

" _Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate…_ "

"I'm so sorry," Leliana's soft voice whispered. "I didn't want you to know…"

Leliana's face was pale, almost blue, and the skin was peeling here and there. Her eyes were circled with black, and her lips were dry and cracked.

" _Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn…_ "

"When did this happened?"

"When we first got in the Deep Roads… I got hit from behind by this Hurlock, but you were there just in time and you chopped its head off… I think… I think some of its blood went into my wound then…"

" _Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams…_ "

"It's my fault, I should have been more careful…"

"No, don't say that… I didn't want you to worry…"

Kaylee gently elevated her head to rest it down on her thighs.

"Don't worry about that now. Help is coming," she said, stroking her red hair gently.

"Wynne… she can't do anything for me. Right?"

" _Seventh day she grew as in her mouth they spew…_ "

Kaylee didn't say anything. Her trembling hands searched through her bag, found a healing poultice.

"Here," she said, applying it to the worst of the cuts on her arms and shoulders. "This will stop the flow of blood at least. We'll get you better in no time." She pressed her lips together and tried to blink back tears. "You'll see."

"I won't. The taint is spreading. I'm slipping. I can feel it. You know it too."

" _Eight day, we hated as she is violated…_ "

Kaylee burst into tears.

"I am so sorry," she sobbed. "It is all my fault. I should never have brought you here. I should never have let you join us."

" _Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin…_ "

"It was my choice… the Maker…"

"Did the Maker tell you to get in the Deep Roads? Did he let you get infected? No! I did! I was so… so selfish!"

"Selfish?"

" _Now she does feast, as she's become the beast…_ "

"I never had a friend like you, Leliana. Someone to talk to, to gossip with. Someone to listen, to share stories. I should have sent you away, but I just… I just couldn't. And now it's killing you. My selfishness is killing you."

"Do… do not talk like that."

"It must have been so hard for you. To trust someone again. After… after Marjolaine. And you gave that trust to me and I'm… I'm not worthy. I've betrayed your trust. I could not protect you. I cannot save you. I cannot save you," she repeated desperately.

" _Now you lay and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams…_ "

They heard a low rumble in the distance. Kaylee raised her head. "They're coming," she whispered. "I sense them."

"Don't let them take me," Leliana begged softly. "I don't want to become… a Broodmother."

" _The men, they kill… they're merciful. But the women, they want. They want to touch, to mold, to change until you are filled with them…"_

"I won't," Kaylee swore, and got up to stand above her, unsheathing her sword.

They came at her in waves. She pushed back the first, then the second, but was quickly overwhelmed by the third. As she struggled with a Shriek, two genlocks grabbed Leliana by the arms.

"Kaylee!" she screamed, and the warrior turned her head to see her friend being dragged slowly away. With a roar of rage, she swung her two-handed blade in a wide circle, clearing a small area around her by knocking back her opponents. She used these precious free seconds to reach for her crossbow. She was trembling violently, and took both her hands to steady her weapon and aim carefully.

"I love you so much!" she cried out, and shot Leliana in the heart.

" _But the true abomination… it is not that it occurred, but that it was allowed…_ "

She let her crossbow drop to the floor, then fell heavily to her knees, sobbing. The scene faded slowly as she was disappearing under a swarm of darkspawn.

"Oh, Kaylee…" Leliana whispered. "You never said… I never knew… how scared you were for us. How many times have you dreamt this?"

She staggered clumsily along the tunnels, eyes filled with tears.


	11. Dreams of Nathaniel

Nathaniel opened his eyes. He was lying in a sunny field.

In the far distance, he could hear the faint echo of music and chatter, but he was far enough that he could also hear more natural sounds, like birds singing and crickets chirping. He sat up cautiously, then got on his feet. He recognized the tall castle as soon as he laid eyes on it: Highever. There seemed to be some sort of fair or tournament going on.

A young woman was running in his direction, looking over her shoulder and laughing. She was wearing noble clothing, a fine white dress that clung to her forms and swooched around her ankles. With a shock, he recognized a much younger, much more carefree Kaylee Cousland. He held out his arms to catch her when it seemed she would run into him without seeing him, but she passed through him as if he weren't there. He realised then that he must be witnessing one of Kaylee's Fade dreams.

A man was running behind her, laughing too. He was holding one hand behind his back, and that made his run awkward and slow. With a pang, Nathaniel recognized his older brother Thomas.

When Kaylee reached a big rock standing alone in the middle of the field, she stopped running, raising her arms in victory.

"I win! Told you I could beat you to it!" she screamed, breathless and grinning. Thomas joined her, his smile wide.

"I could have won, but I stopped to pick up this," he said, holding out his hidden hand. He was holding three little red wildflowers. "I saw them in the fields and I thought they would look really nice in your hair, my lady."

She gasped: "Oh, Thomas…"

"Let me," he said, and raised his hand to gently prick the flowers in her blond hair. She looked up at him, her eyes bright. Her cheeks were still flushed from the run, and her young face all lit up with the sweetness and hope of first love. Thomas slowly bowed his head to tenderly kiss her red lips. She sighed softly, wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He raised his hands to gently frame her face between his palms, then let them slide in a loving caress on the sides of her neck.

"How does that feel?" he whispered, and suddenly, his hands tightened around her neck, and he was  _strangling_  her. She broke the kiss with a gasp:

"Thomas!" she croaked. "What are you doing?"

"All Couslands will die!" Thomas roared, and the fields exploded in pillars of flames around them. Dark forms seemed to lurk inside the fire, twisting and howling. People suddenly busted out of the flames, screaming, to fall dead at Kaylee's feet. The Teyrn and Teyrna, Fergus's wife and son, the cook, the priestess, the teacher… and still, Thomas was strangling her, and in the flickering light of the fire his face seemed to change, and Rendon Howe's features replaced the younger ones.

"Maker spit on you!" he eructed, his face contorted in anger, while she squirmed and gasped and choked, her eyes wild with terror.

The flames died around them, and they were suddenly inside a dark bedroom. Nathaniel recognized the layout of Vigil's Keep. Kaylee looked older then, about the same age she was when Nathaniel met her in the dungeons. She was still wearing the white dress, and was still fighting helplessly to draw breath, as her attacker's hands squeezed tighter.

"Stop!" she managed to sob. "Please, Nate, stop…" And Nathaniel saw with horror that  _he_  was now the one strangling her.

"You killed my family," the Fade-Nathaniel hissed through clenched teeth. "Now you die by my hands!" Kaylee fell on her knees in front of him, gasping. Her struggling movements were slow and feeble, now, tears running freely down her cheeks.

"It was worth it to gain your friendship just to see you beg like this," he spat with contempt. "Any famous last words, filthy Cousland traitor?"

"Please don't do this, Nate. I trust you… I trust you… I trust you…" she repeated fervently, like a prayer, her eyes firmly shut.

He laughed sadistically as he grasped her head and twisted violently, her neck giving out with a sharp snap. As she fell to the ground, the scene began to fade slowly.

Nathaniel staggered backwards, gasping, his frantic hands searching behind him until they found a doorknob. He swung the door open violently and started running, never looking back.


	12. Dreams of Zevran

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: Okay, you probably saw this one coming. I mean, come on, what did you think 'Dreams of Zevran' would be about? Just to make it clear, this particular chapter is of the explicit, smutty variety. I'm sorry, but the girl can't just have nightmares all the time! And I also felt like I needed to lighten the mood before the very serious 'Dreams of Alistair'. After all, everybody deserves a bit of silliness. Especially fictionnal tragic figures. And bored fanfiction writers.
> 
> If this kind of thing does not interrest you, you can skip this chapter entirely and you won't miss it for the rest of the story. It doesn't contain anything important to the plot. If you proceed, maybe you should make sure you read 'A lesson about love' on my profile page first, so you can more easily make sense of the scene. This is my first attempt at something like that and I had a lot of fun!

 

Zevran opened his eyes. He was lying on a soft, comfortable loveseat.

He sat up, looked around. "Oh, yes, I remember this very well," he muttered. "I can't believe she dreams of this as well." This was the room Kaylee was staying in at the royal castle, before her wedding to the king. This was the room where Zevran had confessed to her his confused, awkward feelings of non-love.

"And sure enough, here I am," he sighed, as he saw himself walk around the room, carelessly disturbing every little piece of decoration. Kaylee walked behind him, holding her unlaced dress to her body. He remembered this conversation in its every detail, and it was perfectly rendered.

"You stupid, stupid fool," Zevran whispered to his Fade-self as he lay on the bed, putting both his boots on the bedspread. "How did she not laugh in my face?" he wondered. The discussion heated up, and then he was on his feet, almost… almost yelling at her. It was interesting, seeing things from her perspective. He would never have known how silly he looked.

"I care for you. I respect you. I lust for you," he was saying to her.

There was a moment of silence, then Kaylee stood up.

"Is that so?" she asked, half-smiling coyly. Both Zevrans raised their eyebrows at that.

"Well this is new," Zevran murmured, straightening himself in his seat, as his other self mumbled: "Don't you see… don't you see what I want to say?" his voice unsteady.

"Oh, yes," Kaylee purred, taking a step towards him. "You want me, don't you Zevran? You have for a while now…" She put both her hands on his chest, unfastening the shoulders straps of his armour. With nothing to hold it, her bodice fell around her waist, leaving the upper part of her body completely naked. She slid her hands along the length of his arms, pulling on his gloves, letting them fall on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Zevran whispered. He seemed frozen in shock, unable to move.

"I'm getting this armour off you," she said enticingly. "Let me see if I can work this right… ah, here you go," she murmured, and the last strap fell open. "Now if you could just raise your arms like… yes, just like that. I'll just slide this right over here… and… all done."

Stripped of his armour and smallclothes, Zevran stood before her, completely naked, and completely stunned. She pouted, wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Don't you want to touch me, Zevran?" she asked softly, her lips almost brushing against his. He could feel the warmth of her breath against his mouth. "I've always wondered how it would feel… the touch of another man…  _your_  touch, against my skin… Don't we deserve a bit of fun? We saved the world, after all. Countless times now."

Zevran smiled, then, a rascal grin of surprised pleasure, as his hands found her waist and tugged at the skirt until it fell in a corolla around her. She wasn't wearing anything underneath.

"Well, well, my beautiful Grey Warden, you are a naughty one, aren't you?" he smirked, as his fingers trailed lightly along her waist, caressing her gently. "I would have tried this line sooner, if I had known it would work so well."

"You need to shut up now," she breathed, as her mouth found his. Her kiss was passionate and urgent, and he responded in kind with a fierce groan. He wrapped his arms around her, lifted her up, and carried her to the bed where he lay her down on her back and leaned over her, kissing her still. His hands moved up and down her body in an unending caress, touching every inch of her skin he could reach. She moaned softly into his mouth, arching her neck and biting down at his lower lip. He smiled mockingly.

"Feels good?" he asked, his hand gliding slowly along the tender skin of the inside of her thigh. She nodded wordlessly. He let his mouth slide along her jaw, find the tender skin of her neck, the hollow of her collarbone. She arched her body slightly against his, gasping. His lips trailed down to close on one of her breast, nibbling gently at it, while his hand wrapped around the other one, massaging. She moaned softly when she felt his teeth lightly tease her sensitive skin. Her hands gripped his hair, pulling him closer.

"Hmmm," she sighed, as her body trembled slightly under his caress. Her head rolled from side to side on the pillow as his lips trailed across her chest to suck playfully on her other nipple.

"Please, Zevran," she whispered, breathless, clearly not even knowing what she was begging for. He licked her hardened nipple teasingly, making his tongue swirl around it, then his mouth followed her ribs, kissing and licking its way down the center of her belly, around her navel, then lower still, pleased as he felt her hips rise abruptly in response and heard her soft sigh. As he was about to kiss her even lower, she grabbed him by the shoulders, made him slide back up and crushed her lips against his passionately.

"My turn," she smiled, and pushed against him until he was the one lying on his back and she was rising above him, gripping his hips with her knees. "Don't move now," she teased, slapping away his hands as he tried to caress her again. "Let me see if I can make the master of seduction moan… and scream…"

Her hands pinned his shoulders to the mattress as her mouth found his again, demanding, pressing, and his lips parted willingly under hers. Her tongue rolled around his, stroking and teasing, and he found himself reacting passionately, moaning hungrily into the kiss. He felt her smile, as her hands glided in his hair and gripped, making him rise to press even closer against her. She kissed his cheek, his jaw, slowly making her way to his ear. Her teeth nibbled at it gently, then her tongue darted out, licking teasingly at the sensitive lobe, and he gasped, shuddering helplessly when he felt her shallow breath against his ear.

Her mouth trailed down his neck, kissing every inch of his skin, across his broad chest, suckling gently at his hard nipples, making him groan. Her hands slid down, caressing his hips, his thighs, as her mouth kissed and licked its way down slowly, teasingly. Her fingers slid down the inside of his thighs and found his erection. He gasped, arching his body into her caresses. Her hand brushed against it lightly, as she placed kisses around his navel, her lips slowly trailing lower, making him gasp and moan and jerk helplessly under her hands. Her mouth stopped just at the edge, her tongue darting playfully, and his body contorted in anticipated pleasure, his hands gripping her hair, his throat making incoherent lustful sounds of pure desire…

The soft squeaking of the bedroom door stopped her in her tracks. "Miss?" a timid female voice asked. "Do you need help getting ready for bed?"

"No, Delana, everything's fine!" Kaylee shouted. They were hidden from the door by the drapes of her four-poster bed. ' _Shut up'_ , she mouthed silently at Zevran. Her fingers resumed their playful caress, sliding up and down his length. He clenched his teeth together, but a soft gasp escaped him.

"Is everything all right, miss? I heard something."

"Everything's fine!", she repeated, narrowing her eyes at him angrily. She wrapped her fingers around his erection and stroke lightly, her thumb dragging slowly over the tip. He shuddered. ' _Keep quiet_ ', she mouthed silently. "I just… I bang my elbow against the bed head!"

Zevran bit his lower lip hard as his hips jerked forward uncontrollably under her continuing caress, and managed to keep silent even as she brought him dangerously close to the edge. Smiling approvingly, she bent over him, and as her fingers stroke, she let her tongue swirl around the ridge, then slowly down his length. "That will be all! Thank you Delana, you can go now!" she said, letting her breath blow softly on the wet skin. Zevran jerked and stirred, but sunk his teeth into his closed fist and kept silent.

"Are you sure, miss? Maybe you would like a hot bath, to help you relax?"

She raised a questioning eyebrow at Zevran, as her lips trailed slowly back up his length. ' _Hot bath_?' she mouthed silently, making her tongue draw lazy circles around the bulging purple tip. He shook his head frantically from side to side, still biting hard at his hand, his wild eyes bright. "No thank you!" she answered. "You can go to bed now!"

"Very well. Good night miss."

As soon as the door closed back, she took him all in her mouth and sucked hard, and he cried out his pleasure loudly, unable to contain it any longer. "Now", he growled. "Now, please!"

She obligingly let go, rising up to kiss his lips lightly, pressing her hips against his and gently guiding him inside her. He gripped her by the waist and spun her around, landing on top of her. She wrapped her legs around him as he thrust deeper into her, setting a rhythm that quickened rapidly. They moved as one, gasping and moaning, until she suddenly cried out in surprised ecstasy. With a last thrust Zevran came, shouting her name in his climax.

As the scene faded slowly, Zevran realised he was gaping. It still took him a while to recover enough from astonishment to actually close his mouth.

"Well that was… interesting," he finally said, still shocked, but half-smiling. He couldn't wait to see her again, to see her face when she realised…

He walked out, laughing out loud.


	13. Dreams of Alistair

Alistair opened his eyes. He was lying in his bed at the royal castle.

He rolled on his side lazily, to find out that he was in bed… with himself.

"Gnaaa!" he exclaimed, jumping out of bed in a swift bound. His other self did not move. He was sleeping soundly.

Taking in the bigger picture, Alistair saw that Kaylee was there, standing over the sleeping Alistair. She was cradling a little bundle of blankets in her arms. She bent slightly over him to whisper:

"Alistair, wake up! Wake up, my love. Someone very special is here to see you!"

Alistair opened his eyes slowly, blinked, looked up, and smiled sleepily.

"Good morning."

"Good morning to you too," she murmured tenderly. "You seem to have slept well."

"Mmmm…" he mumbled. "Missed you. What about you? They let you get up? How are you feeling?"

"Wonderful. They are saying I'm recovering particularly well. She went easy on me," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Alistair sat up carefully:

"Can I see her?"

Kaylee lowered the little bundle to him.

"Of course. She's been crying to see you ever since you left my room last night."

"Really?" he murmured, grinning. He lifted the blanket gently, uncovering a lovely little baby face. The girl was awake, blue eyes wide, and she shook her tiny hands excitedly when Alistair's face showed up.

"Hey, little baby girl," he cooed. "You're happy to see me, aren't you?"

"Have you thought of a name yet?" Kaylee asked while Alistair kept making faces at the baby.

"I don't know," he sighed. "Maybe she has one already? Do you want to tell me your name, little girl?" The baby raised her hands to grab his nose and said: "Gna!"

"Maybe something meaningful," he said, kissing her tiny palms. "like Joy, maybe, or Hope…"

"I like Hope," Kaylee said, smiling. "We need hope."

"Are you Hope, little baby girl?" Alistair babbled, tapping her tiny hands together. "Gah!" the baby answered happily.

"Do you want to hold her?"

"Ah. Uh… I don't know. What if… what if I drop her? I'm so clumsy sometimes…"

"You won't drop her," she reassured him, gently putting the bundle of blankets in his arms. He cradled her preciously against him, kissing the top of her head gently, making little butterfly kisses rain all over her tiny face.

"She's so… perfect. I am so happy," he sighed. "You made me the happiest man in Ferelden. Today I truly feel as a king. I love you so much…"

Kaylee smiled tenderly, standing up to lean closer to him and kiss him gently on the lips.

"I love you too."

He smiled, but then his face changed as his hand patted the baby's bottoms.

"Uh… I think she needs a change. It's wet down here."

"She's all right," said Kaylee. "Don't worry."

"But…" He took his hand from under the blanket to look at it. It came out smeared with red.

"She's bleeding!" he gasped, putting the little girl on the bed and unwrapping the blankets swiftly. He looked her all over twice before sighing in relief.

"She's fine. She's perfectly fine. But then…" He flipped the blanket over. Only the outer side was stained with blood. "Whose blood is this?" he asked, looking up at Kaylee, and gasped. Her own white nightgown was stained red, as blood flowed steadily from huge cuts on her wrists and arms.

"It's mine. Don't worry," she said calmly.

"Don't worry?" he exclaimed, jumping out of bed and gripping her hands in his. "What happened? What did you do?"

"Nothing. It's fine," she said reassuringly.

"It's fine? Kaylee, it is not fine! You're losing all your blood!"

"I know," she sighed. She looked down at the pool of blood forming at her feet, and frowned. "This is such a waste. I don't think this is how it is supposed to happen."

"What are you talking about?" Alistair was panicking. "I can't stop this." he muttered. He was trying to put pressure on the wounds, but the blood kept flowing through his fingers.

"It was the deal," she said, confused. "I can't break the deal! I can't go back on my word!"

"What deal?" Alistair sobbed, and she put two fingers on his lips to silence him, staining the front of his sleeping shirt red.

"Shhh… you are happy, aren't you? You said you were happy before…"

"I was, but…"

"You will need to take care of her now. Our little Hope… you will raise her, and love her, and watch her grow. She will do great things, when she's all grown up. Me… I… I need to go now." Her voice was growing weaker.

"What? No! No, don't go now! You can't leave me!" he sobbed, grabbing her and crushing her against his chest. "Stay! Stay with me! Just a little longer. Why can't you stay? Can't we have more time? I need more time!"

"More time…" she whispered, sounding thoughtful. "I wish… I wish I had more time…"

She closed her eyes, her head falling heavily on Alistair's shoulder as he clung to her, screaming.

The two of them faded away, leaving a crying, confused Alistair wiping distractedly at his cheeks.

"What was that all about? Why would you dream of such a thing, Kaylee?" he whispered to the empty room.


	14. Motivations

"So… how do the two of you know each other?"

Avernus looked up from his book, annoyed.

"Are you still here? Don't you have recruits to train, or heal, or… whatever it is you can do?"

Anders scoffed.

"I'm not leaving you here with them. I'm keeping my eye on you." With a swing, he sat himself on Avernus's desk.

"Yeah," Sigrun added. "We don't trust you. We kinda thought that was clear." She was walking around the laboratory, looking at everything curiously, picking up books and vials and tools to examine them attentively.

"How heart warming," Avernus sneered. "Aren't we all learning to be a happy little family. Don't touch that!" he shouted at Sigrun, who shrugged and put a greenish potion flask back. "I assume you won't be staying too long, then?"

"Oh, but we will. We're the new Seneschal, or haven't you heard?"

"Wonderful. It takes two of you to get this job done? I can't believe I'm going to miss that Howe fellow. Much less talkative. I had no sudden urge to end his life so I can get a minute of peace."

"Can't scare me," Sigrun shrugged. "Already dead." She put herself on tiptoe to reach a book on a higher shelf, hitting a glass vial with her elbow. It went down and crashed on the floor. "Oops," she said, not sounding sorry in the least. Avernus sighed.

"And also, we can't be worse company than  _him,_ " Anders added, pointing at the form of the Architect still suspended in the shining prison. Velanna was standing by him, incanting, throwing everything she got at the spell. "So this brings me back to my original question: how did you two meet again?"

"He came here seeking knowledge, and had some to give in return, so we shared. It was all very touching. Like a love story between mortal enemies."

"You don't want to answer, just say so…"

"We Wardens take help wherever we can. It never came in such disgusting packaging before, but I'm hardly anyone to talk. If the talking darkspawn has something to give, I am certainly going to take it before ripping his heart out."

"But what can he have that can be of any use to us? And how did he help the Commander?" Sigrun asked angrily.

"I am not saying anything. Least of all to you."

Velanna cursed heavily.

"I give up!" she shouted, throwing her hands up. "There is nothing I can do! Let's just hope he's not dying in there now…"

Avernus muttered something that sounded like 'foolish child'. He extended his hand and twisted his wrist abruptly. The crushing prison dispelled, letting the body of the Architect fall heavily on the ground.

All three Wardens gaped at him.

"I thought… I thought you could not dispel it," Velanna said, sounding a little miffed.

" _Please_ ," Avernus said disdainfully.

"But then why… why didn't you?" Sigrun breathed. "He could have saved her!"

"I owe you no explanation whatsoever," he spat.

"How about me?" called the low, breathless voice of the Architect. He was struggling to get up, but didn't manage to get past the kneeling stage before collapsing again. "Can I have… an explanation for this?"

Avernus stood up, closing his book in one swift motion, and crossed the space between them in a few long steps. He stood over him, looking down with contempt.

"Don't push your luck, darkspawn, and just be glad I stopped the spell when I did. I was not about to let you work you filthy magic on her. She will  _not_  owe you any more than she already does." He turned towards the others. "Shackle him up to this wall. He is not to be released until they return." He slowly walked back to his desk.

"Yes, sir," whispered Anders, a hint of newly found respect in his amused voice.

"When she comes back… she won't be happy about this," The Architect breathed, as they put the chains around his wrists and ankles.

Avernus stopped at that and turned, his gaze lingering on Kaylee's body.

"I know," he sighed.

* * *

They walked for what seemed a very long time.

Wynne's Fade was a succession of landscapes and buildings, some of them Kaylee did not recognize, but they also came across some places she knew very well. She took an habit of telling Justice about them: "This is the Brecilian Forest, where she found her former apprentice after believing he was dead for many years." "This is the Gauntlet we had to face to get to Andraste's Ashes. She was very moved when we got there." "This is arl Eamon's great hall. She saved a boy's life here, by entering the Fade to defeat the demon possessing him." Justice listened attentively to her every story.

"She seems quite the woman," he said finally.

"Oh, she was. She was brave and adventurous and kind. Can you believe she volunteered for Ostagar? She turned down a position of power within the Circle to accompany us on our crazy journey, and she barely knew me at all at the time. And she could weave spells like you wouldn't believe. She was a natural healer, she saved my life so many times I stopped counting. And she knew stories with griffons in it. She tried to explain to Alistair how babies were made…" Kaylee chuckled. "This one time…" Her smile faded. "I miss her…"

"We'll find her."

They walked silently for a while.

"How did you get back in the Fade, Justice?"

"After I left Kristoff's body, I ended up here. I don't know how. Maybe I wasn't meant to exist as an incorporeal spirit in your world." He paused, searching for words. "Did… did Aura… was she happy?"

"I believe so. We had a quiet little ceremony for Kristoff. She spoke to us about the man he was, before… you know."

"Yes."

"She was grateful, I think, for what you did to avenge him. But she was also grateful to finally be able to mourn him properly. It was… strange, for her, to see you. To see him."

"I know."

"Do you miss it? My world?"

He didn't answer.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I do not want to speak of this anymore."

They spent a few more minutes in silence.

"This… this must be it," she said finally. Before them, across a lake, stood the tall and majestic Circle tower. "This is weird, that she would have this in her Fade. I knew it felt like home to her, but Irving said she was never one to stay in the tower when there was adventure to be had."

As they got closer to shore, she had to smile. The doors to the Tower were wide open, like they never were in the real world. And on the grass in front of them, she saw a replica of their camp. Wynne was sitting by the fire, and she seemed to be sewing something. She looked at them when they got in the boat to cross the lake, and Kaylee saw her expression change when she recognized her.

"Oh dear…" she murmured as they got closer. "I'm so sorry, child."

"I'm not dead, Wynne," Kaylee said, hugging her tenderly. "I just missed you too much."

"Oh… well… how nice of you to visit, then…" Wynne said, amused. "If someone could pull that off, I guess it would be you."

"This is Justice. We… we have a history. Sort of."

"Welcome. Please, sit," Wynne said, gesturing towards the fire. They took place around it. Kaylee looked at her friend with relief. This time, she was persuaded it was really her. She looked younger, more relaxed, her hair falling loosely around her smiling face.

"How is it, Wynne? Life after death? You seem happy."

"I am. I have everything I once held dear, and I get to check on those I left behind occasionally. I lived a long, happy life, and I died content. Thanks to you, I was able to leave this world without regrets. Not many of us have that chance."

"You check on us?"

"As often as I can. I can't do anything, of course, but then, you seem to do pretty well for yourself. It warms my heart to see Alistair and you so happy together, and to see the wonderful king he turned out to be. But why don't you tell me why you're really here now? Do not get me wrong, it is nice to see you, but I will not believe you came here only because you missed me. Something happened, hasn't it?"

"You… you don't know? So you did not call to me?"

"I'm sorry dear, I don't know what you are talking about."

"Then it was the demon…" she sighed. "Is it possible that I got so close to death a demon called to me from the Fade, to lure me here and convince me to let him possess me?"

"We know so little of the Fade," Wynne said. "Even me, even here. Anything is possible, I suppose. But demonic possession, abominations… you would need to be a mage to fear such things."

"I… uh… learned some warrior techniques that allowed me to call upon the Fade. The lines have been… blurred, since then, and I gained a deeper connection to the spirit world. I don't know what is possible now. That is kind of the reason I'm here, actually. It probably allowed me to enter the Fade, and I'm wondering what else it could let me do."

"What do you mean?"

"To be absolutely honest, it was not exactly you I was seeking, Wynne. I was wondering… if you stayed in touch with the Spirit of Faith that saved you."

"No, not since my death. I don't exactly know what happened to her. Why?"

"Because I might need some saving of my own. Very soon."


	15. A nightmare

They found each other in Highever's courtyard.

Leliana and Alistair wiped their eyes clear subtly upon seeing the others. Zevran wore a smug smile on his face he didn't seem willing to hide. Nathaniel looked… terrified. They gathered around awkwardly, each of them aware that the others must have witnessed something different, none of them willing to talk about it.

"Did anyone see her?" Alistair asked. "I mean… you know, the real her?" They shook their heads slowly. "All right, then… let's keep looking."

They began walking in one direction, soon coming across some familiar landscapes: Ostagar, the werewolves' lair, the Deep roads, the Circle tower, the Wending Woods, Kal'Hirol, Fort Drakon, Denerim market. Sometimes they saw shadows, ghosts of people passing through soundlessly, and sometimes they caught a glimpse of Kaylee. She was in armour, or a dress, or breeches and shirt, fighting, laughing or shouting. They walked close to each other in silence for a long while through the shimmering apparitions, alert.

"This is so… creepy," Zevran finally muttered, and they all loudly agreed with relief.

"I just hope we didn't pass her already and dismissed her as a dream," Alistair sighed. "Come on, let's check in here."

He opened a door framed into thin air in the middle of the Brecilian forest. On the other side was a long, narrow corridor lined with countless doors on both sides.

"All right, let's split up and check them all," Alistair said.

"No!" came the unanimous response.

"All right… let's stay together and check them one by one." A loud sigh of relief answered him. He opened the first door, peeked in, gaped, then closed it back hastily and spun around on his heels to put his back to it.

"What? What's in there?" asked Leliana.

"That's… uh… our bedroom," Alistair said, blushing. "She's… ah… not there. Shall we move on?" He walked to the door in front of him, opened it. Eamon's study. He closed it back, heard the first door click shut behind him. He whirled. "Zevran!"

"Wasn't me!" Zevran protested, both hands in the air. Alistair heard Leliana giggle and blushed ever more furiously, his cheeks turning a bright crimson. "Leliana!"

"What?" she said innocently. "Oh, you should not be ashamed, Alistair. You showed a lot of… enthusiasm in there."

"Stop. Just… don't," he groaned, and she laughed heartily.

"Let's see what is in here now, shall we?" she said, opening another door. "This is… Riordan's room, in Redcliffe Castle. Nothing here."

They walked down the corridor, opening doors, without finding any sign of her. They could recognize each and every one of the rooms, Nathaniel pitching in for the early years and Amaranthine settings. Sometimes, the rooms would be empty, sometimes the group would catch a flickering image of a lingering dream.

"What's this?" Nathaniel asked, opening a door and taking two steps in the room. Zevran peeked in. "This is…" His voice froze. "… the arl of Denerim's dungeons."

"Oh, Maker. Nathaniel, don't!" Alistair exclaimed, rushing towards him and grabbing him with one hand on his shoulder to drag him back, but he found he couldn't move him. Nathaniel was frozen in place with shock.

Rendon Howe's face was appearing in the shimmering air, as the torture chamber decor formed slowly around them. Kaylee was facing him, her expression hard, both her hands grasping her weapon. They could hear faint sounds in the distance, chains clinging and people screaming.

"Well look here! Bryce Cousland's little spitfire, all grown up and still playing the man." A thin, cruel smile stretched Howe's lips as he looked her up and down, radiating with contempt. "I never thought you'd be fool enough to turn up here. But then, I never thought you'd live either." His tone was smug, but his eyes on her were cold, calculating.

"Glad to disappoint you. It won't be the last time." She held his gaze steadily, keeping her blade up.

"I thought Loghain made it clear that your pathetic family is gone and forgotten!" he exclaimed, crossing his arms on his chest. "Is this about your family, still? But I have done so much more than wipe your name from Ferelden memory." She shuddered, tightened her grasp on the hilt of her sword.

" _You_  won't forget," she swore, her tone ominous. "Their memory brought me to you."

He took a step towards her, arms still crossed. He didn't even make a move to grasp his own weapons. As if she wasn't there, in front of him, murder in her eyes. As if she wasn't even a threat to him. He leaned forward a bit, his gaze boring into hers, and a cruel grin curled his lips.

"Your parents died on their knees," he said, speaking slowly, as if he wanted to imprint the words on her mind. "Your brother's corpse rots in Ostagar and his brat was burned on a scrap heap along with his Antivan whore of a wife."

"Did… did he really say those things to her?" Nathaniel whispered.

"Every last word. Down to every gory detail," Alistair answered.

"And what's left?" Howe was saying, eyeing her with scorn. "A fool husk of a daughter likely to end her days under a rock in the Deep Roads. Even the Wardens are gone. You're the last of nothing. This is pointless. You've lost."

Her spine straightened suddenly, as if he had struck her. She lowered her stance, her eyes ablaze fixed on him. She seemed to grow in front of them, shoulders broad, head held high. For a second, in her black and silver Warden-Commander armour, her glimmering starmetal sword in hand, she looked like the Wardens of legends, the ones who soared through skies on griffons.

"I know your game," she said, her voice steady, commanding. "No shadows, no lies. Just you and me."

He backed away one step, his features contorting in anger.

"There it is. Right there," he spat angrily. "That damned look in the eye that marked every Cousland success that held me back. It would appear that you have made something of yourself after all. Your father would be proud. I, on the other hand, want you dead more than ever."

He looked back over his shoulder at the torture rack, then licked his lips in anticipation as his gaze fell back on her, as if he could imagine her being shackled to the device, imagine all the things he would do to her…

Her hands were shaking around the hilt of the sword. In her eyes gleamed the crazed, reddish glow of berserker's rage.

"After this, I'll kill your wife, your son and daughter, too," she growled, in an attempt to scare him, to make him feel terror and despair. He didn't even flinch, a smile on his lips, as if he didn't care, really, what could happen to his family, as long as he could get what he wanted.

"Isn't that precious?" He laughed. "Is this where I lament the monster I helped create? Let me show you how it is done," he said, almost whispering, leaning in closer, his piercing gaze locked into hers. "I made your mother kiss my feet before she died. It was the last thing your father saw." He straightened up, reaching behind his back to unsheathe his blades. "Meet my sword, and change that."

She charged him with a fierce battle shout, and knocked him down with her first strike. He jumped hastily back on his feet but she was on him again, relentless, hammering him with wide, powerful strikes he evaded with difficulty. Her moves were slow, thought, burdened as she was by the weight of her heavy weapon, and as a skilled warrior, Howe took advantage of the speed his two lighter blades gave him. He was quicker and knew how to fight dirty, and he landed two, three painful strikes that tore through her armour and pierced her flesh. She didn't even seem to notice. She screamed at him, a powerful roar of pure rage, and charged him again. He hit the ground, hard.

As he lay stunned on the floor, she stood above him, breathing heavily, and the background sounds of torture changed slightly to sounds of battle and roaring fires. Around them the scene morphed, and they were suddenly standing in Highever castle, burning. Oren and Oriana's corpses were sprawled on the floor, lying on top of one another; Fergus's body was pinned to the wall with darkspawn swords. Bryce Cousland was struggling to sit up, holding a weapon in his trembling hand, blood pooling around him. Eleanor was bending over him, giving him a last kiss as a flight of arrows pierced her back.

Screaming, Kaylee raised her weapon and shoved it through Howe's chest. Nathaniel closed his eyes shut and turned his head, a hand pressed on his mouth.

"Maker spit on you," he heard his father hiss with his last breath. "I… deserved… more…" He looked back, unable to tear his gaze away from the scene.

Kaylee tore her weapon away from the body, discarded it on the side and fell to her knees beside him. Still screaming, she violently brought down her closed, gauntleted fists on his chest, one, two, three times, until Alistair's arms embraced her from behind and dragged her away, screaming and sobbing.

Nathaniel leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily, fighting the urge to be sick. He let himself slide to the floor, his eyes fixated on his father's body, who was beginning to fade away.

"It is all true, is it? This is how it happened?"

Alistair nodded. "The fight was longer, and he had allies, but… yes."

"And… does she dream of this often?"

Alistair took a moment before answering.

"It is her most recurring nightmare."

Nathaniel buried his face in his hands. A dry sob shook his shoulders.

"She dreams I kill her, too. Did you know that?"

"Yes," Alistair said without hesitation.

"Is that… is that why you didn't want me to come?"

"Yes."

"She doesn't really trust me, does she?" Nathaniel whispered, looking up at Alistair. "I mean… by the Maker, how could she? By the end, I wanted to kill him myself, and he is my  _father_."

Alistair knelt before him, lowering himself to his eye level. He put a hand on his shoulder.

"Listen carefully. When we decided we needed a Warden to know about our little secret, she was the one to volunteer your name. You were her first choice. What you see in here… these are just dreams. When it is real, she does trust you. With her life and more."

Nathaniel looked at him intently for a long, intense minute, before releasing his breath in a low sigh.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"I am not done," Alistair said sharply. "I am the one who is there when she wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming and crying. I am the one to hold her trembling body against mine for hours, soothing her and lulling her back to sleep. I've done this countless times now, and it never got easier. So I swear to you, if one day, she calls upon you and you do not answer, if one day her trust in you appears to have been misplaced, I will find you and strike you down with the righteous fury of the Maker Himself. Do I make myself clear?"

Nathaniel swallowed. "I understand."

"Good." Alistair got on his feet and extended a hand to help him up. "As long as we are on the same page. Now let's find her."

They walked back into the corridor. Leliana and Zevran exchanged a stunned glance behind the two men's backs.

"Well that was a side of him I never saw," Leliana whispered.

"I know," Zevran answered softly. "I truly wish now he never finds out about the dreams she has of me!"

Leliana shot him a sharp glance.

"What do you mean? What dreams? She dreams about you?"

A wave of heat flowed through the corridor, saving him from having to answer. Zevran looked back, and his eyes widened.

"Rage demon!" he yelled. "Run!"


	16. Of promises and loopholes

"I never thought it would be more difficult not to kill a demon than to kill it!" Alistair yelled, ducking into another hallway.

"Shut up and run!" Nathaniel replied. "We've almost lost him!"

They ran past ten other doors, abruptly turning right in another corridor. The rage demon behind them was roaring angrily, but the sound was becoming more and more distant. They came to the end of the hallway, with no other path to take. They were trapped.

"In here!" Leliana whispered, opening the door at the end of the corridor. They dove into the room, shutting the door quickly behind them, and listened. Not a sound came from the other side, and after a minute they sighed in relief. Turning around, they took in their surroundings. They were standing in the Warden's Keep's laboratory in Avernus' tower. The Architect and Avernus were there, bent over some papers and talking softly to each other. Pots and vials were boiling on the counter, and open books piled up one unto another were scattered around the room.

"Another dream?" Leliana murmured softly. "This one must be recent."

The door busted open behind them, making them jump. Kaylee burst in, sword in hands, eyes ablaze. She walked through them to where the two scholars were standing, advancing on them with long, determined strides. She looked pissed.

"What are you doing here?" she growled. "Are you here to suck my recruits dry of their blood? To convince the maleficar to resume his tests on Wardens? Greater good or no, I swear I'll strike both of you down where you stand."

Avernus raised both his hands towards her, and they all saw a flicker of fear and admiration pass through his eyes as she stopped before them, weapon ready. She could be real impressive when she chose to. Impressive and dangerous. He knew already how lucky he had been to escape with his life after their first encounter.

"It is nothing like that, Commander. In fact, we have… rather good news. If you would just sit down and listen…"

She stood still for a moment, eyeing them with anger, then relaxed her stance and sheathed her sword. She didn't sit, instead crossing her arms on her chest. "Speak quickly."

"Maybe we shouldn't stay here," Alistair whispered. "If she wanted us to know how her meeting went, she would've told us."

"We can't go back until the demon is gone," Zevran reminded him. "Also, aren't you just a little curious?"

"We were able to combine parts of our researches," Avernus was saying cautiously. "The Architect managed to isolate the resistance to the darkspawn taint in the warden's blood, and I was able to strengthen it. I made the resistance strong enough to actually reject the taint."

Kaylee shifted on her feet, and her arms fell to her sides. "Does that mean…" she said cautiously.

"Yes. If the natural resistance within humans can be strengthened enough to repel the taint, it could cleanse people who are infected. I believe we found an effective cure to the darkspawn taint."

A brief expression crossed her features before she could hide it. Knowing her, they all recognized it for what it was: hope.

"Has it been effectively tested?"

"Yes."

"Do I want to know how?"

Avernus didn't answer at first.

"The subject is fine," he finally said. "He has been completely cleansed, and returned to his family safe and sound. And his taint was deeply rooted enough that we can be absolutely sure this cure works."

Kaylee nodded, her expression hard.

"Then we need to let the people know at once. The main hall needs to be set to be able to receive the sick. And this one," she said, motioning towards the Architect, "needs to leave."

"I'm afraid," the Architect breathed "that it will not be that easy."

Kaylee's eyes narrowed.

"What does that mean? Because it sounded like a threat. But it couldn't be. Right?"

"It is not a threat," the Architect answered. "It is merely a fact. There are things I need… before we can proceed. Promises."

"We did each part of the cure individually. I don't know how to go through the entire process by myself. He kept some of his knowledge from me," Avernus said with some anger. "He wanted to talk to you before we can go any further. That is why I called you here."

She looked at both of them silently for a while. "I'm listening," she finally said.

"This cure we found, it can be altered, so that it could get rid of the consequences of the Joining for a Grey Warden," Avernus said. "It is possible to be cleansed of the taint and be normal again."

Kaylee actually swayed on her feet. "I think I'll sit down now," she said weakly, falling on a nearby chair. They both joined her, dragging chairs to her so that they all were seated in a circle.

"I am telling you this because I am aware that the King and you have had… difficulties conceiving an heir, and that is probably because of the taint in both of you. I do not need to remind you of the horrors a civil war over your succession would unleash upon the land when you will both be called to the Deep Roads. This can offer you a solution."

"Alistair and I are still young," she protested. "Things can always… proceed naturally."

Avernus stared at the ground in silence. It was the Architect that spoke first.

"There are… other reasons for you to take this cure, Warden. I will not give you the knowledge you need… if you don't."

"What? Why? Are you worried about the throne of Ferelden as well?" she asked sarcastically.

"Hardly. My concern is for my own people. When this cure becomes public knowledge, it will cause the humans to… attack us much more freely. They will not fear contact with our blood anymore. This places us in a position of …weakness I cannot allow."

"And how is my not being a Warden anymore going to prevent that?"

"It can't, of course. But it can provide us with an advantage of our own."

"That scared of me, are you?"

"You are a scary woman, indeed. You proved that… when you dealt with the Mother. But this… is not what I meant."

"Then what is it exactly that you mean, darkspawn? Speak plainly, for once."

"The taint that is inside of you… it is strong. The strongest I have felt. Yet… your mind does not seem to be affected by it."

"Alistair's is stronger. He's been a Warden longer than me," she protested, but she let an uneasy glance slip towards Avernus and he gasped.

"You drank the potion?" he breathed. "When I found the empty cup, I assumed you destroyed it. But you didn't, did you? You drank it! And it worked! What did it do? How did you feel?"

"This is hardly the time for this discussion now, is it?" she said, waving his questions away. "What difference does it make to you, darkspawn, if my taint is strong?"

"The stronger the taint, the stronger the resistance must get… in order to get rid of it. If you were to take the cure, your blood… would wield the strongest resistance to the taint ever witnessed. This, Warden, is what I want from you."

"You… want my blood?"

"Yes…" he breathed. "Your blood would be the key ingredient to freeing… my people from the call of the Old Gods. We would all be one step closer to ending all Blights, forever. We could even consider… everlasting peace between our people… in the far, distant future. And in exchange, I give you the knowledge to prepare the cure for your tainted humans. You will be able to save each and every one of them."

Kaylee sat back in her chair and looked at him warily: "How much of my blood would you need?"

He looked back at her, his gaze impenetrable: "All of it, of course."

Kaylee went pale and her eyes closed briefly. "Of course," she repeated, her voice quivering. She removed her gauntlets and ran her hands across her face, inhaling deeply. She stared at the ground, hard, for a long time, her hands rubbing her cheeks absently.

"I want ten years," she finally said. "Then I'll give you all you want. And you do not touch a hair on Alistair's head, if he decides to take the cure with me."

"What… what did she say?" Leliana whispered with shock. "She's taking the deal?"

Nobody answered her. Alistair stood very still, fists closed, jaw clenched, lips firmly pressed together.

The Architect was shaking his head slowly from side to side.

"I cannot wait that long. I'll give you until the heir is born, or until three years have passed. If you do not conceive a child within three years, you will come back here, and your blood will be mine. I do not need the King's blood. He will remain untouched. I will give my notes to Avernus as soon as your blood will be cleansed. These are my terms."

She pressed her lips firmly together, her eyes staring at the floor. One single tear rolled down her cheek. When she finally raised her head, it was Avernus's gaze she sought.

"In death…" she whispered.

"… sacrifice," Alistair finished softly, at the same time Avernus did. In an unexpected gesture, the mage extended a arm to squeeze Kaylee's hand gently. His eyes gleamed with a feverish glaze.

"Seems like I'll still be a Warden after all, even without the taint," she murmured, smiling sadly. The deal was sealed.

"One more thing," Avernus said. "The cure can be fatal to a Warden whose taint is as strong as yours. It will incapacitate you for days. Weeks, maybe, even if everything goes well. I will do everything I can for you, but you need to be aware of the consequences."

"This deal we made… it is your guarantee you'll make it through," the Architect breathed. "You do not need to worry. I cannot let you fail, and I cannot let you die. I will keep you alive, and I will see to it that you succeed."

"I will hold you to that," she said, and stood up, putting her gauntlets back on. "I will have no problem holding you responsible for anything that happens to me during this… procedure." She beckoned the mage to come closer. "Avernus. A word." The Architect retreated to the counter, leaving them some privacy.

"Will you make this Warden cure available to others?" she asked.

"No," he said categorically. "I think the reasons are obvious." She nodded.

"Listen to me, Avernus. When I come back to take the cure, you'll be responsible of me. I want you to watch the Architect closely. Don't let him do anything to me without my consent. Do you understand?"

He looked at her with utter devotion, and she noticed for the first time the feverish glow of his eyes.

"It will be as you say, Commander Dryden", he answered almost worshipfully. Her eyes widened when she heard what he was calling her. She grabbed him by the front of his robes and shook him, looking at him intently.

"Snap out of it, Avernus. I need you focused. If the taint is altering your brain, see to it that it is fixed. Do some of your infernal concoctions, or blood spells, or even take the bloody cure yourself. Just stay sharp. Am I making myself clear?"

His eyes cleared up a bit, and he shook himself free of her grasp. "Yes, Commander," he said coolly.

"Good. Now to the job, Warden," she said, pointing towards the Architect.

She turned back to the door, and they saw her face crumbled. Before her tears started flowing, she darted out of the room. Avernus and the Architect faded when she was gone. A door appeared on the other side of the laboratory.

They stood unmoving for a long while, then Leliana took a small step and silently slid her hand in Alistair's, leaning her head against his arm. Zevran wrapped a comforting hand around his shoulder. Nathaniel stayed aside.

Alistair's face was set in stone, but his hands were shaking uncontrollably. He held Leliana's hand tight, pressing it in both of his. When he felt Zevran's hand on his back, his eyes closed and a desperate sob escaped him, and he fell apart on Leliana's shoulder. She enlaced him tenderly and when his knees gave out, they both crumbled to the ground, crying, clinging to each other. Zevran and Nathaniel exchanged an uneasy, powerless glance, their eyes bright with tears.

"We need to move forward," Nathaniel said softly after a while. "The rage demon must be catching on."

Zevran lowered himself to Leliana and helped her up slowly, holding her gently by the shoulders as she took a few stumbling steps, crying silently. Alistair stayed kneeling on the floor, his head bowed down, his shoulders shaking with violent sobbing jolts. Nathaniel got closer and sat on his heels in front of him, placing both his hands on Alistair's shoulders.

"Come on. Let's find her. She'll explain everything."

"There's nothing to explain," Alistair whispered hoarsely. "It's all very clear now."

"Alistair, you told me yourself: she had her reasons for coming here. Why do you think she sought refuge in the Fade?"

Alistair raised his head to look at him.

"She's doing the necessary thing," Nathaniel said, quoting Alistair's own words. "To survive. To win." His hands clung tighter on his shoulders as comprehension lit Alistair's eyes. "She's looking for a loophole. A way out." Nathaniel stood up, extending a hand. "Come on."

Alistair looked at him, then grasped him tightly by the wrist and brought himself up. They stood facing each other, eye to eye, still grasping at each other's arm. A sound behind the door startled them, and their eye contact broke. Nathaniel patted Alistair on the back. "Let's go." They walked across the room and joined Leliana and Zevran at the opposite door.

On the other side, they found the campsite. The ground was covered in demon parts.

"She definitely came through here," said Zevran, half-smiling sadly.

"There's a pedestal over there," Leliana called out. "She must have used it. There are more demon body parts piled up around it."

"Let's go, then," Alistair said, and he extended a hand, touching the pedestal.


	17. A fine line between

"So that's all of it. The story of how I will die."

Wynne was looking at her with shocked horror, both hands clasped over her mouth. Justice was pacing furiously behind her. He looked… well,  _pissed_ , although for the life of her she couldn't understand why.

"You see, don't you? There was nothing else I could have done! I mean, we could save so many people, end all Blights, eliminate the darkspawn threat completely, heal the tainted… maybe it is still time for Ruck to come back to his mom! Oh I kinda wish now I didn't tell her he was dead… Maybe it's not too late to save Hespith… or Velanna's sister… I mean, with all of this good that can be done… my life… it's meaningless, really."

"Well, not quite meaningless, no," Wynne answered, taking her hands into hers. "But I see your point. I do. I just wish… well, you know what I wish." She patted her hands comfortingly.

Justice sank heavily to her side.

"This is not fair to you," he said. She looked at him.

"But it is just."

"That you have to die to save others? This is not justice. Justice makes guilty people pay."

"But justice is also fighting injustice, right? It states that the innocents should not pay for crimes they didn't commit. All those people who fell sick from the Taint, they did not deserve their fate. It is just that anything possible should be done to save them. My life would save countless other, and right a great injustice. Don't you agree?"

He didn't answer.

"I thought so," she murmured.

"But everything you're giving up…" Wynne said, shaking her head slowly. "Your husband, your friends, your duties… your child…"

Kaylee's eyes closed tightly and she sank her face in her palms: " I don't want to think about that. If I let myself want this too much… I won't be able to go through with it."

"But you don't know… you can't understand… what it feels like, having to let go of your own child…" Wynne's voice was quivering and she rubbed her hands together to prevent them from shaking. "To have to willingly open the arms you want to wrap around him forever, and let someone else take him, knowing you will never see him again…"

"Holy Maker, Wynne, I'm so sorry," Kaylee whispered, reaching out to her. "I didn't mean… I wasn't thinking…" Wynne dismissed her concern with a wave of her hand, but her fingers were trembling.

"You need to think about this, though," Wynne said more sternly. "You've done difficult things in your life, some nearly impossible things too… but this, this will be the hardest of them all. You'll be wishing for an Archdemon to kill all over again."

"But this is why I'm here, Wynne. I have to go through with the deal, but I want to buy myself more time. When I was contorting in agony, within inches of my death and almost wishing for its sweet release, I heard you. You were telling me to come to you, in the Fade, that you had a solution. It wasn't you, of course, I know that now. It was the demon, and we both know what kind of solution it had to offer. But it got me thinking at what your solution could be. And I remembered the spirit that saved you. You were dead, then, and she brought you back to life, but let you use your free will. I was wondering if… maybe, she could be convinced to do it again."

"Oh, I wish I could help you," Wynne sighed. "I don't even know if she's around, or if she's still alive. Maybe my death killed her. I haven't heard a word since I came here. I'm so sorry."

Kaylee tried to smile reassuringly, but the tears that started rolling down her cheeks ruined the effect. Wynne took her hands in hers, her own eyes shining with tears.

"It's all right," Kaylee said, her voice rough. "It was worth a try. Maybe I'll think of something else."

Wynne patted her hands awkwardly. Kaylee lowered her head, breathing deeply, trying to soothe the violent sobs she felt coming. Everything wasn't lost, she told herself. She still had time. She would find a solution. She had powerful friends and allies, capable of great things. Maybe Irving would think of something…

She felt Wynne's hands hold suddenly still upon hers, and she looked up, puzzled. Wynne's expression was strange, an odd mixture of cautiousness… and hope.

"Maybe…" she began slowly. "Maybe you don't need a spirit of Faith. Maybe any spirit could do. Maybe you just need a spirit you have a strong connection with, like I had with mine."

"Wha…?" Kaylee started to ask, confused. Wynne raised her eyebrows intently, and suddenly it hit her, right in the face, as if Wynne had slapped her hard with it. She turned… towards Justice.

"NO!" he yelled, jumping to his feet. "No, no, no, absolutely not! I won't do it! I can't… don't ask this of me!"

"But Justice… you can save me!"

"You don't know that! You're not even sure! What if she's wrong? What if I can't?" He was pacing back and forth, shouting, and Kaylee was pretty sure he was trembling all over. This was so unlike him, this intensity, this anger. She wondered where it all came from.

"But what if you can? Isn't it worth a try?" She got up to face him. "When I'll have lost all my blood, you'll come to me, you'll get inside, and you'll keep my heart pumping, you'll flow through my veins… you can be my blood, my strength… until I can take over again. It can't be much harder than animating a dead body."

"You don't know what you're asking," he whispered desperately. "I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't!" His voice grew louder and louder, until he was yelling again.

"But you said it wasn't fair for me to lose my life like that, and now you won't do a thing to save it?"

"No! Do not ask me to do this! I could not… I could die!"

"You could come back to the real world," she pleaded. "Experience new things through me. A female body. Love. Parenthood…"

"Stop!" He took her by the shoulders, shaking her violently. "Stop talking! Stop asking! Stop  _tempting_  me!"

"You… you w… want t… to?" she stammered. He let go of her abruptly, his face frozen in shock. "I don't understand, then… why won't you?"

"Because I want it  _too much_!" he screamed. She stepped back, afraid of what she saw in his face. It wasn't anger he was feeling. It was pure, utter, unadulterated  _terror_.

"What?"

"Don't you see what you are going to make of me? What I can become if I let myself be tempted? I want to be back in a human body so much, it  _aches_! But desire is not something I can allow myself to feel! What if I can't give you back control of your body, if I can't find the will to let go of the reins… your child will have an abomination as a mother. And I'll be…" He shuddered.

"But you're not doing it for yourself," she reminded him. "You're doing this to save me." He shook his head, not looking at her, raising his hands as if to push her away. She took a step forward. "Justice, this is us. It's you, and it's me. We can do this."

He let his hands drop to his sides, his head hang low. The air seemed to shiver around him, as he forced his image to shift back to the ghostly, armoured figure she had seen when she first met him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, turning away, and started running, soon disappearing behind the tower. Kaylee let herself sink back to the ground.

"He's not coming back," she whispered. "And I feel like I'm running out of time. Should I go after him?"

"Let him have some time to think it over. Don't worry, I'll talk to him." Wynne's arm wrapped around her shoulders to hug her tenderly.

"You won't find him."

"Oh, you leave it to me. I may be dead, but I still have my ways." She raised her head, looking at the water. "Someone's coming," she whispered.

They heard loud shouts over the water: "Kayleeee!" And then: "Andraste's flaming sword, it's Wynne! Guys! She's with Wynne!"

"Alistair?" the two women murmured simultaneously with disbelief, standing up, as the boat came floating down slowly across the lake.

"Sweet dear Holy Maker, no…" Kaylee gasped, clutching at Wynne's hand. "Do you think he's…"

"Dead? No, dear, I don't think so. It seems nobody in the Fade is dead anymore. It is becoming quite the vacation spot."

"Wynne!" yelled a female voice. The mage squinted her eyes: "Is that… Leliana? And Zevran?"

"Yes. They are together now."

"Maker protect us," Wynne murmured, but she was smiling. "And who's that dark fellow? Oh wait…"

"That's Nate!" Kaylee said with shock. "What are they all doing here?"

"Maybe they miss me too?" Wynne teased.

The boat came to shore, and Alistair jumped hastily to the ground and ran. He came at Kaylee at full speed, their breastplates colliding together, knocking the wind right out of her, his arms wrapping tightly around her as if he couldn't get close enough.

"I found you," he whispered hoarsely in her ear, sending languorous shivers down her spine. Then he was kissing her, urgent and passionate and desperate, and she clung for sweet life to his hair, his shoulders, his hips, as a roaring fire consumed her whole, as if this kiss was their first kiss. Her hands were unfastening armour straps before she knew what she was doing.

"Ahem!"

That sole sound made Alistair jump away hastily, blushing and looking as guilty as a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. Wynne was tapping her foot, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, I did not miss this one bit," he laughed, enlacing the mage and whirling her around. "We're married now, I'll have you know."

"There is still such a thing as appropriate public behaviour," she lectured, out of breath and a bit dishevelled, when he put her back down.

"Wynne!" Leliana shouted happily, flying into the mage's arms. "So good to see you!"

"You too, my sweet child," Wynne said, amused.

"What about me?" Zevran pouted, extending his arms wide. Wynne looked at him suspiciously. "I'm a changed man. Really. That deserves a hug, surely?"

Wynne made a doubtful face, but smiled as she hugged him briefly. "My, my, no discreetly feeling me up, no boasts about my bosom… you have changed!"

"Oh, are you sad about that, my dear Wynne? Perhaps I should make an effort, for old time's sake…"

"Please don't," she said sternly, and turned to face Nathaniel, who was slowly coming up to the, looking embarrassed. She extended a hand: "It is nice to finally meet you, young man."

Nathaniel shook her hand, surprised: "Nice to meet you too. We've heard a lot about you."

"Don't believe a word of it," she smiled.

Kaylee was back in Alistair's arms, and he was caressing her face, her neck, smelling her hair, as if he couldn't convince himself of the reality of her: "I found you," he said again fervently.

"You said that already," she smiled. "Were you looking for me?"

"We're here to rescue you!" boasted Zevran.

"Why? I thought the Architect would bring me back, if I couldn't find a way…"

"He was… uh… incapacitated momentarily."

She raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Well… how did you get here?"

"Anders made a fake Harrowing ritual. We came through your dream Fade," Alistair said.

"You… what?" Kaylee whispered. She took a few steps back. "You walked through my dreams?" Alistair let her go, his face hardening. A flash of anger passed through her eyes: "You came here walking through my dreams and you brought  _Nathaniel_  with you?" Her voice was as cold as steel.

"I insisted," Nathaniel said softly. "I didn't know…"

She didn't look at him, her gaze still on Alistair: "Did he see?" she asked.

Alistair nodded briefly. "He saw everything."

"Holy…" She ran her hands across her face, then turned towards Nathaniel. "Nate… I…"

He raised a hand to stop her: "Now is not the time for this discussion. We'll talk later."

Kaylee nodded with relief, noting that at least he did not sound mad… and then she caught a glance of Zevran and frowned, puzzled. He was acting rather strangely, looking everywhere but at her. He was biting his lip, trying not to grin and failing horridly. What was he… She suddenly gasped, clasped both hands on her open mouth. A deep red color crawled across her face all the way up to her forehead: "Dear sweet Andraste, no, no, no…" she whispered, closing her eyes shut and shaking her head.

"Ah, ah, yes! Priceless!" Zevran burst out laughing. Kaylee spun around to hide her face in the curve of Alistair's neck, never opening her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her automatically, but he was frowning: "What's going on here?" he asked, suspicious.

"Nothing, nothing, just… hide me."

He held her close for a short while, then pulled himself away.

"Listen, love… we saw other things as well."

"Oh, really?" she whimpered. She was mortified.

"Yes, we saw… we saw you make the deal with the Architect."

She went from crimson to pale white in a second. Her legs gave out and she fell heavily on the ground, gasping for air. "I… I…" she stammered helplessly. "I'm… so sorry," she finally sobbed. "I couldn't… I couldn't tell you…"

He knelt beside her and cupped her face in his hands: "Just tell me… tell me you found a way out of this."

"I… I'm… still working on it."

"Rage demon is back!" Leliana yelled, grasping her bow.

The fiery demon was slowly creeping from behind the tower, roaring. He launched forward, throwing something heavy through the air before him. A glowing, lifeless, armoured spirit form…

"NO!" shouted Kaylee. "It's Justice! Nate! Save Justice! I need him!"

"Time to kill ourselves a demon!" Nathaniel roared, unsheathing his blades. "Zevran! You grab the spirit and pull him away! Alistair! You stay here, and you hold on to her!"

Alistair's arms wrapped tightly around her, bringing her up.

"Wha…?"

"I'm bringing you back. Hold on."

"But I need to… Wynne!"

"Don't you worry now, my child," Wynne murmured, stroking her cheek gently with her fingertips. "You just leave it up to me."

Alistair locked his arms around her, as the battle sounds came to an abrupt end.

"It's dead!" called the clear voice of the bard.

"Hold on to me," Alistair whispered. "Never let go of me."

"Never let go," she repeated fervently.

Everything started reeling around her, and she lost consciousness.


	18. Darkness comes out

"They're waking up."

Avernus raised his gaze from the parchments on his desk. Anders was bent over Leliana, whose hands had begun to twitch lightly. Sigrun, who had been on all fours on the floor scratching Willow's belly, got slowly up and looked at Alistair, who was closest to her. His eyes were fluttering.

"Come on, Nate," Velanna whispered, her face hovering over his, holding his hand in hers. "Wake up." She was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes.

"Hey, beautiful lady," he smiled. "Worried for me?" She backed away hastily, but couldn't repress a smile. He sat up.

Leliana was already on her feet, although unsteady, and she stumbled to Zevran's side, helping him sit up.

"Did we succeed?" asked Nathaniel. He carefully put both his feet on the ground, testing his balance.

"I had her. She should be there." Alistair got up on shaky legs and held himself against the bed.

Willow rolled to get on his legs and trotted to Kaylee's bed, sat, and waited. She did not move. He nudged her hanging hand, rubbing his head under it, licked it once, whining softly.

"Are you sure, Alistair?" Leliana asked.

"Yes. I am sure. Just give it a…"

Kaylee opened her eyes, her mouth, and  _screamed_ , a shrill sound of pure agony that made Willow back away and let out a surprised bark. Her hands flew up, her fingernails dug into her skin, clawing at her arms, her chest, her face, leaving deep open lacerations in their tracks.

Leliana fell seated at Zevran's side, hiding her face against his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. Velanna took a step backwards in horror, bumping into Nathaniel who put both his hands on her shoulders to steady her, and left them there.

Kaylee took a deep breath, screamed again. Her fingers curled around the fabric of her tunic and she pulled at it frantically, tearing it apart.

Sigrun and Anders exchanged a confused, scared look, and the dwarf shifted to stand slightly closer to the mage. Alistair shot a desperate glance in Avernus' direction, and the maleficar seemed to spring into action, stepping away from his desk and approaching swiftly, as Alistair took a few shaky steps towards Kaylee's screaming body.

The piercing screams were suddenly replaced by an awful gurgling sound. Blood bubbled out of her mouth as she tried not to choke on it, spitting it out, turning her head to the side. But it wasn't black.

It was crimson red.

"What's happening? Is this supposed to happen?" Alistair breathed.

Avernus shook his head.

"Her body is suffering severe internal damage from her fight against…" He stopped himself, gesturing: "You! Mage! Do something!"

Anders took a step forward, his quivering voice chanting an healing spell. The words died on his lips.

Kaylee's whole body arched violently off the bed, arms spread wide. Only the top of her head and her heels were still in contact with the sheets. Her face contorted in agony, mouth opened on a silent scream. Dark fluid came seeping out of the deep scratches she had inflicted upon her skin. It flowed from her eyes, her ears, her nose. Red blood still spout out of her mouth, smearing her face.

Avernus himself backed away, astonished. "What in the…"

They could see dark snakes crawling under her skin, whirling on themselves, slowly forming bulging blisters all over her body. When they erupted she tried to scream again, choked on the blood. Her body jolted with violent spasms of pain as she tried to gasp for air. Her skin split apart as the blisters erupted one by one, liberating black and red swirls of putrid blood.

"Let me out of these chains!" the Architect screamed, tugging frantically at his shackles. "You stupid humans! You're going to let her die!"

"Anders!" Avernus roared. Startled, the mage extended his hands again and resume his chanting. Wounds started to heal on Kaylee's skin, only to be replaced by new ones. Anders kept chanting, his face creased in concentration. Sigrun began handing him uncorked lyrium potions he gulped like they were alcohol shots.

They all saw the defined lines of muscles, sinews and nerves relax under skin, as Kaylee's body dropped back on the bed. She managed to roll on herself and get on shaky hands and knees, finally spitting the blood out, before heaves of nausea shook her, and dark fluid poured from her mouth. Hands caught her from behind before her arms gave out, preventing her from falling face first on the soiled sheets.

"I got you," Alistair breathed, lowering her on the floor. He lay her head in his lap and tried to wipe her face clean. His hands were shaking slightly; he was still weak from his own ordeal, and the strength it took him to get her on the floor was the last he had in reserve.

Kaylee seemed to have lost consciousness again. Her body was trembling, and her skin felt ice cold under Alistair's touch, but the gashes Ander's magic managed to heal did not reopen. Avernus lowered himself next to her.

"She's not out of the woods yet. She needs to rest and to be kept warm. And as soon as she wakes up, she needs to eat."

Alistair nodded.

"Nathaniel…"

"You can take my room," Nathaniel said at once. "It's the closest and the largest, and it has a bath." He got on one knee beside them, gently scooped Kaylee in his arms and carried her to the door, Willow on his heels. Alistair sat where he was, completely unable to move himself, until Zevran and Leliana each grabbed him by an arm to help him up and half-carried him across the room, following Nathaniel.

When the door closed behind them, time stood still for a second; then Anders collapsed heavily.

"I'm gonna go through so much withdrawal after this," he whispered in shock upon seeing all the empty lyrium vials scattered around him. Sigrun stepped in front of him, gently putting a hand on his cheek:

"You did good, Anders. More than good. You were amazing. You saved her."

He smiled weakly before allowing his eyes to close, his head to rest lightly against the base of a nearby bed.

Velanna took a few steps to stand before the Architect's still shackled, heavy breathing form:

"What are you going to do with him now?"

Avernus looked around and sighed:

"He's all yours… if you help me clean up this mess. Just leave him alive."

A wicked grin curved the elf's lips:

"Deal."

* * *

Nathaniel had the Wardens all working at once, carrying buckets of hot water to draw a bath, gathering blankets, even cooking, in the odd chance she would wake up soon. Quickly enough, the tub was filled almost to the rim, and Leliana staggered in the doorway, her arms barely holding at least thirty blankets and various furs.

"They all wanted to contribute their own for… their Commander," she puffed, putting the heavy load on the bed. "We'll… leave you alone, now. Just call out if… you know. If you need anything." She withdrew, closing the door behind her. They were alone in the room, at last, with Willow already sprawled on the bed, awaiting eagerly.

Kaylee was lying on the floor where Nathaniel had put her down, by the tub. Alistair sat next to her, slowly peeling the filthy, sticky tunic and undergarments from her body and carefully lowering her in the tub, making sure her neck rested securely against the rim. He gently rubbed every inch of her skin clean, wiping away the thick, dark matter that clung to it. He considered washing her hair too, but didn't want to risk immersing her head in water while she was still unconscious.

Under the warm water, her skin still felt cold to the touch. Her face was pale, almost blue at the lips, and he had to check often to see if she was still breathing. His fingers traced lightly along the trails of scars scattered on her body. He knew each of their stories by heart. When she was all cleaned up and the water began to cool, he dragged her out of the tub and lowered her on a large towel sprawled on the floor. He rubbed her dry, then slowly, painfully, carried her to the bed. He got her under the mountain of blankets and furs and lay down beside her, burying his nose in the crease of her neck. Willow hastily snuggled against her other side, laying his big furry head on her shoulder, and sighed.

There was nothing else to do now but sleep. And wait.

* * *

The whole Keep seemed to fall under some sleeping spell. After the exhaustions of the last weeks, everyone was glad to be able to catch a bit of rest. The companions brought their bedrolls together in the little common room adjacent to Nathaniel's bedroom, turning this into a weird, solemn slumber party. They were all exhausted, but did not want to be away for too long. They slept for a day and a night, without interruption.

Nathaniel woke up to the delicious smells of breakfast. Zevran and Leliana were already eating, the bard's head, still heavy with sleep, leaning on Zevran's shoulder, as he fed her bits of toasted bread. Nathaniel joined them, helping himself to some eggs and bacon.

"Still not a word from our ex-Wardens," Zevran whispered, eyeing the bedroom door. "I guess it is good news, in a way."

"So what is going to happen now?" Leliana asked. "How are they going to keep this cure a secret from the other Wardens? Surely you have some sort of higher power you have to answer to? They are going to find out, sooner or later, no?"

"I'm going with them at court to deal with Warden representatives. I'll be acting as their liaison to Weisshaupt, I guess. I'll have to make up some kind of excuse for them, so that our royal friends won't have to meet other Wardens in person."

Zevran's eyes narrowed. "So the High Warden, or whatever he is called, comes for a visit to the King and Queen, and he walks out satisfied after speaking with you? This is a strange plan, in a "it will never work" kind of way."

"It's First Warden," Nathaniel replied. "And no, it can't happen like this. Weisshaupt's emissaries can't even take one step in the castle. It'll be even better if they don't come into the city at all. They'll know, if I'm the only Warden around. They'll sense it."

"And what then?" Leliana asked. "What will the First Warden do if he finds out about this cure Kaylee and Alistair took?"

"I don't know. We are all very aware of the fact that this cure can absolutely not become public knowledge. It could very well mean the end of the Grey Wardens. If Weisshaupt ever discover that our King and Queen are no longer tainted, they could possibly go to great lengths to insure that their new… condition stays a secret."

"You think they can kill them?" Leliana murmured, her eyes wide.

"The Wardens do whatever must be done. So yes, I think they would."

"I see." Leliana's face hardened as she absent-mindedly grabbed her butter knife, flipping it as if it was a throwing dagger, deftly catching it by the blade, the handle, the blade… until Zevran carefully intercepted it and put it down. Her pale blue eyes were cold.

They fell silent for a while, then Nathaniel pushed his plate away, sat back in his chair and locked gaze with Zevran: "I wish to be trained in the ways of an assassin."

Zevran arched a surprised eyebrow: "Oh? You do realize what you are asking, yes?"

"Oh yes. If I have to kill to protect their secret from the First Warden, I need to learn some techniques. When they come… I'll be ready."

"Ready to assassinate Wardens? You know, I hear they are royally tough to kill. Also, aren't you trying to restore your family name?"

Nathaniel's head bowed down, his eyes on the floor. His expression was cold, determined.

"Yes, well… there is a reason it is so difficult. There's a… darkness in me, and I need to fight it everyday, to try and be good for the family name. But restoring this name doesn't mean a thing if I let them die. True redemption can only come from those my father hurt the most. With a chance at redemption, she gave me… she gave  _us_ …" he corrected himself, looking around the table, "something none of us deserved. I'm going to do right by her if it is the last thing I do." Nathaniel leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I  _am_  a Howe. It is in my blood already. If pressed, we can do pretty horrible things."

"So can Crows."

"And bards."

"It is settled then."

They nodded once, understanding each other.

"I wonder, my friend, if our dear fearless leader knew exactly what she was asking of you when she promoted you to her personal guard," Zevran pondered.

Nathaniel took a second before answering: "Maybe not. But I believe she knows, deep down, the kind of things I could be able to do. The kind of man I can let myself become. What I saw of myself in her dreams… she knows me, even more than she realizes."

Zevran nodded. "All right. Fair warning, though; I might not be the best teacher for this set of skills. I am, after all, more renowned for  _failing_  to assassinate Grey Wardens."

"You should come stay with us in Denerim, Nathaniel," Leliana said enthusiastically. "Or, even better, we should all go stay at the castle! I'm sure Alistair won't mind! Oh, Zevran, can we go stay at the castle?"

"Well, vast accommodations, fine liquors, intrigues and deceit, with a few assassinations on top… what's not to like? I'm in."

The bedroom door slowly creaked open, and Alistair's head poked through the crack:

"She's still asleep, but she's warming up. I think she'll be all right. Hummm…What smells so good? Are you making me skip breakfast?"

"Alistair!" Leliana cried out. "Can we come stay at the castle with you? Oh, please!"

Alistair grinned.

* * *

"Come on, lighten up, people. I swear, it's like attending my own funeral."

Leaning on pillows, covered in blankets up to her nose, Kaylee tried valiantly to smile. All her companions were gathered around her bed, wearing equally appalled expressions on their faces.

"I don't look that bad, surely? Love, how do I look?" She raised her hands, tried to fluff her hair.

"As stunning as ever," he assured her, bringing another spoonful of broth to her lips. She opened her mouth obligingly.

"Oh yes, you're… a vision," Anders confirmed, shifting uncomfortably on his feet and looking away.

The fact was that she was looking awful. She had deep black circles under her eyes, her once full cheeks were now hollow, her skin was pale white with fine little red scars crisscrossing her face. Her hair was a tangled blond mess smeared with black and reddish-brown blood.

She frowned: "Even Alistair lied better than that. Come on, how do I look?" She made a move to stand up. A dozen hands extended to hold her firmly down; numerous voices started exclaiming about her healthy look, her fine hairstyle, her nice complexion. She looked doubtful, but leaned back on the pillows and opened her mouth again, swallowing another spoonful.

"Where's Velanna?" she asked.

"She's… humm… busy… speaking with the Architect," Nathaniel answered, smiling slightly.

" _Speaking_  with him? Really? Over tea, perhaps?"

"That's my story and I'm sticking to it."

"We're really glad to see you better, Commander," Sigrun said jovially. "Although… are you? Better? I mean, I feel like there's something… wrong, about you. Different."

"That's true, now that I think of it," Anders said after a beat. "What was that sickness you both got again?" His eyes went from Kaylee to Alistair, and his frown deepened. The royal couple exchanged a worried glance as Nathaniel sprung into action:

"Maybe we are crowding the Commander a bit. Sigrun, Anders, I think it's time you meet the recruits, don't you think?" He walked to the door, held it open. After a last, suspicious glance, the two seneschals followed him out.

"I'm so careless already," Kaylee murmured after swallowing another spoonful. "I'm sure they guessed by now."

"And I'm sure they are trustworthy," Alistair added, forcing her mouth to open again and shoving the spoon in it. "Come on, you'll still be eating that damn broth tomorrow at that rate!"

"I won't, because we'll be back on the road by tomorrow. I have to leave before there's any more suspicious Wardens."

"All the more reasons to eat, if you want to be strong enough to travel by tomorrow."

She pouted, but opened her mouth all the same. Leliana sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand:

"You gave us quite a scare, you know."

"I know. I even scared myself a little. I'm sorry."

"Well luckily enough you have friends who will stop at nothing to ensure your survival. We don't want to tire you out, so we'll leave you two alone now. There will be plenty of time to talk when we're back in Denerim. Oh! I almost forgot. We're coming to stay with you at the castle! Isn't it wonderful?"

"Really?" Kaylee smiled feebly.

"Yes! We'll spend so much time together! It will be just like old times! Only you know, with real walls, and servants, and fully functional kitchens and bathrooms and wardrobes. Ooooh! With shoes! Like old times, but better! You'll see!"

Zevran laughed, taking Leliana by the hand and dragging her to the door:

"Come, my sweet. Do not make them regret their decision already!"

An uneasy silence fell down when the door closed behind them. Alistair kept shoving spoonfuls of broth in her eager mouth.

"You're enjoying this far too much," she grumbled.

"Of course! For once, it's you that need me, and not the other way around, and I am not going to disappoint. You are going to be the most pampered ex-Warden in all of Thedas."

Kaylee shifted uncomfortably under the blankets: "Alistair…"

"I don't want to talk about it for now," he stopped her.

"But…"

"Not now," he repeated. "If we talk now, we're going to argue, and you're so weak that I'm going to win, and where's the fun in that? It's too easy."

"I was only going to ask you for something more solid to eat."

"Oh."

"We'll talk when we get back home. And when I'm strong enough to kick your ass all over again."

"Is that a threat?" he murmured. He couldn't help the teasing. He was just so happy she was alive. "Or a promise?"


	19. First impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: A very short, very silly, hopefully funny little chapter. This little scene popped into my very tired, broken, overworked brain and wouldn't leave me alone until I got it written. At least, it had the desired effect at the time: it made me laugh. I hope it will make some of you at least smile.

_  
_

"Wardens, gather round!" Nathaniel shouted.

The Grey Wardens training in the courtyard sheathed their weapons and gathered hurriedly at the foot of the keep's steps, looking up at the three officers. Anders and Sigrun exchanged a nervous glance.

"First of all," Nathaniel shouted when everyone was quiet and listening, "let me announce that the Commander of the Grey and His Majesty the king are feeling much better. The treatments were difficult, as you all heard, but effective, and they are now both cured of their illness. They are recuperating right now and are expected to make a full recovery very soon."

The small crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Nathaniel raised a hand to request silence:

"As some of you already know, I will be leaving my post here to accompany them at court, where I will join their personal guard. Here to replace me are two of my most trusted friends, some of the first Wardens recruited in Ferelden after the Blight by our Commander. I present to you Anders and Sigrun."

Hesitant, confused applause followed his words, as whispers of "Amaranthine" and "the Mother" floated over to them. Though not as glorious as those of the Blight, legends of Vigil's Keep had spread quickly amongst the Grey Wardens of Soldier's Peak, and everyone knew them already, if only by name. Nathaniel took a step back, letting his two friends take the impromptu stage. Anders stepped forward, clearing his throat:

"My fellow Wardens!" he shouted in his most official tone, spreading his arms wide. "As one of your new seneschals, I want to say that it is an immense honour as well as a privilege to be here. When the Wardens of old first gathered together to battle darkspawn, they…"

"Oh, by the Stone, not this again! Boring!" exclaimed Sigrun.

"Shhh! Do not undermine me in front of the recruits! I know how to speak to crowds! I was personally requested by the Circle to give a lecture on the Architect, you know!"

"Yes, well, what I've heard is that half your audience fell asleep during the first sentence!" Sigrun laughed.

"Oh, but you should have seen the look on Greagoir's face when I walked in!" Anders laughed heartily. "Priceless!"

"Even so. Nobody wants to hear some stories about the Wardens of old! Right, people?"

Some confused murmuring answered her. "Emm… can we go back to training now?" asked an hesitant voice in the Warden's crowd.

"No! I'm not done introducing myself. Can I continue now?" Anders said, looking at Sigrun, who shrugged.

"Just make it interesting! No boring speech. Maybe… oooh, light something on fire!" she squealed, bouncing with delight.

"What? No! My magic is not for entertainment purposes!"

"Or do that 'spicy shimmy' thing, that's always a hoot!" Sigrun said, moving her arms in circles and shaking her bottom, dragging her feet in a strange out-of-beat dance.

"No, no, you're doing it all wrong! Sigrun, we are here to try and lead these people, not make them lose all respect for us! You know what they say about first impressions…"

"Then you need to be impressive! Please, Anders, just a tiny little fireball! Come on people! Don't you want to see Anders throw fire around?"

A stunned silence answered her. Then someone in the crowd yelled: "Yeah!" and another: "Come on, Seneschal!" A thunder of shouts and applause followed as every recruit started demanding some demonstration of magic. A surprised, satisfied smile raised the corner of Ander's lips, and he extended both hands to salute, revelling in the attention.

"All right people! How about that training dummy over there?" The crowd roared its agreement in thunderous applause. Anders made a show of it, agitating his arms in the air, chanting some unintelligible words, and then pushed his hands towards the dummy, who caught fire instantly. The crowd burst into cheers as Anders, looking satisfied, blew on his fingers as if to cool them. Something then caught his attention.

"Hey! Where's my ring?" he said, looking at his extended hands.

"Oops, sorry!" Sigrun said hastily, producing the ring from one of her pockets. The crowd laughed, finding itself more and more entertained by the minute. "It's just so shiny and irresistible! So pretty! Old habits… But, you know, it's a girl's ring, really. Not for a strong powerful manly man like you! Maybe I should keep it?"

"What? No, no no, my ring!" Anders exclaimed, snatching it from her hands and earning some "booh!" from the crowd. "Ah, come on, people, she stole it from me!" he pleaded.

"Please, pretty please, Anders," Sigrun begged, smiling, as the Wardens started chanting: "Si-grun, Si-grun!" Anders eyed his ring longingly. "Oh, all right," he sighed. He started giving the ring back but his foot slipped on the edge of a step, and he fell suddenly on one knee, ring in hand in front of her. A collective sigh of "ooh" and "aww" floated above the crowd, and then someone whistled. Cheers and laughter ensued, as Anders got hastily back on his feet, blushing furiously, and a confused Sigrun kept looking around asking "What? What?"

"All right everyone, back to training now! Show's over!" Anders yelled desperately. He turned around and walked back to the keep, pushing Sigrun in front of him. She looked at the ring in her hand, then at him.

"What just happened?"

"Just keep walking," Anders mumbled.

"But what about me? I don't get to introduce myself? I had that whole thing prepared about being dead already…"

Their voices faded in the distance as the Wardens broke into pairs and resumed their training. The conversations were loud and animated. Life at Soldier's Peak was becoming quite interesting, and fast.

Nathaniel managed to gather enough thought process to close his gaping mouth and rub his hands across his face. "What have I done?" he whispered, slowly shaking his head before following his friends in the keep. Maybe Oghren would have been a better choice, all things considered…


	20. Coming clean

The next morning, they got ready to leave the peak at daybreak. Kaylee was still weak, so they borrowed horses and a little carriage from the keep's stables. Alistair took care of the packing himself. She lay in bed for a while after he was gone, doing some stretching exercises, then called for a bath, soaked for a long time in the steaming tub and finally got to wash her hair. She then managed to shakily get up, cross the keep on wobbly legs and get to Avernus's tower, to take care of one last thing.

The Architect, unshackled, was sitting at the desk, covering page after page of his meticulous writing, with Avernus bent over his shoulder. Both heads raised at her arrival.

"It is almost done, Commander," Avernus said.

She nodded, leaning against the frame of the door. "I'm leaving now."

"So am I," the Architect said, rising from the chair. "It is time I return to my people. I will come back in three years, or sooner, should you bear a child. I trust you will keep your end of the deal."

"Oh, I will," she said scornfully, taking a few steps and steadying herself with the back of a chair. "Did Velanna succeed in making you talk?"

Avernus shook his head.

"I'm protecting her sister with my silence," the Architect breathed in his slow voice. "She does not wish to be found."

"Or maybe she does not know what she really wants anymore. And maybe what Velanna needs is a little more… conviction."

"What do you mean?" Velanna asked behind her, pushing the door to get in the laboratory. "What did I miss? You really think I need more motivation to find my sister? She's all I have left!"

Not ever turning her gaze from the Architect's eyes, Kaylee asked softly: "Do you know what we are working on here, Velanna? Has someone told you?"

"I was far too busy to take interest in your scientific research, especially since  _he_  was involved in it."

"Well, the research just came to its successful conclusion. We found a cure for the people affected by the darkspawn taint. If you bring your sister back, she can be healed. Her body and mind can be free of the taint. Forever."

"You…  _what_?" she whispered. "And he knows, and still won't tell me  _where she is_?" she said, yelling by the end. She closed in on the Architect, whose eyes briefly betrayed a hint of fear.

"Take it outside," Avernus instructed sharply. "I just finished cleaning the previous mess."

"Oh, I'll take it outside all right," Velanna murmured, a wicked grin on her lips. "I do my best work outside. If you do not follow me on your own, I'll just push you out this window right now and let you crash at the foot of the tower. What will it be?"

The Architect raised his gaze to look at Kaylee: "You will let her kill me? I did not think you… untrustworthy."

"She won't kill you. She needs information from you. As soon as you tell her what she wants to know, she'll let you go. Right, Velanna?"

"Right, Commander." The mage's voice was practically purring. "The fall would not kill him. It would just hurt him. A lot. And then I'll heal him, and hurt him. All over again."

"See?" Kaylee said. "No killing. Were I you, I'd start talking pretty quick, though."

"I thought… we had an understanding," the Architect sighed. "I would have rescued you from the Fade, if they did not tie me up. And now… you're letting them torture me?"

"Well, for what it's worth…" Kaylee murmured softly, a thin smile on her lips, "I am sorry… you have to go through this."

His eyes flared. "Very well. I will tell her what she wants to know. In fact, she can come with me… if she dares."

"Lead the way," Velanna said coldly, pushing him in front of her as she made for the exit. Kaylee let herself fall on a chair as soon as they were out.

"Maker, I hate him." She shivered in disgust.

"You and me both, Commander," Avernus nodded, taking a seat next to her. "But he did provide us with an incredible opportunity. You know… you realize I have to inform Weisshaupt about this cure for tainted people. I won't tell about the Warden's version, but still… What should I tell them?"

"Tell them what you believe is best, Avernus," Kaylee said, letting her head fall in her hands. "I'm too tired to think about this right now, and I need to leave. I trust your judgment in this matter." She got up and faced him: "You did good work here, Avernus. Thank you."

He waved her thanks away: "Do not thank me yet, Commander. I know what it cost you to get this done. I… wanted to talk to you about this, before you leave."

She fell back in the chair with a sigh. "Be quick about it."

"There is a way to survive a massive loss of blood. I wanted to wait before telling you this in hope that you could find another solution, but I believe I heard that your little trip to the Fade did not have the happy conclusion you were seeking. What I have to propose… it is a last resort kind of solution, one you won't like. It is a blood ritual."

She raised a hand to silence him. "Stop right there."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss blood magic, Commander," he said, narrowing his eyes at her. "It has served you well in the past, if my memories are any indication."

"The price was always fairly high. I'm not about to do it again."

"You need to hear this, Commander. You need to know this is a solution. Any blood that is lost needs to be replaced. I can take the blood from another person's body and put it in yours."

"So someone else needs to die so I can live? You really know nothing about me."

"No, it is not quite so simple. In fact, two people need to die. One will provide the life energy to cast the spell. The other will have his blood removed and transferred to you."

"I would storm out of here right now if I had the strenght, you know," she said, getting up slowly. "And here I was beginning to kind of like you and everything."

"You think about it, Commander. You have three years, maybe less. When things become more urgent, maybe you'll have a change of heart. You're the ruler of this country. Surely some prisoners sentenced to death are rotting in your dungeons as we speak. What difference would it make if they died to save you?"

She opened her mouth to retort, but closed it without a word, as her face went strangely pale. She walked slowly towards the door, leaned on the handle, then turned back to look at the mage. "Thank you," she repeated, and left.

All the members of her little travelling party were all packed and ready, waiting for her in the courtyard. She climbed into the carriage, Alistair taking his place besides her. "Let's go."

* * *

The ride back to the capital was a slow one. During the day, the three rogues positioned their horses around the carriage with Willow in front, following its slow pace, as Kaylee and Alistair tried to hold on inside the rocking, bumping vehicle. At night, the rogues set up camp and prepared food, then retired to a clearing to train. Kaylee bundled up close to the fire if the skies were clear, in the covered carriage if it rained, with Alistair on one side and Willow on the other, and they talked of inconsequential things, the promise of more serious, more important talks always floating between them. Those conversations were for another time, a safer, more intimate time.

Their arrival at Denerim was discreet. That didn't stop Eamon to stare at them with wide scared eyes as they entered the empty throne room.

"By the Maker, what happened to you two? Did you run away to kill another Archdemon? You both look awful! You can't be seen like this! You need to retire to your apartments right now, and don't come out until you recover your human faces! Did somebody see you enter the castle?"

They shook their heads, already walking towards the royal suite.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Eamon, have two guest rooms prepared. We have some new permanent residents to accommodate," Alistair said, barely repressing a yawn. "As close to our apartments as possible, if you will. I'll see you tomorrow and you can fill me up on what I missed."

They stumbled into their room and unto the bed, falling asleep before their head hit the pillow. They slept soundly all day, and half the night, and woke up to utter darkness. Alistair built a fire in the hearth, summoned a servant and called for some food. They settled comfortably by the fire, eating in silence.

"You look better," Alistair finally said.

"I don't feel that much better."

"Do you feel good enough to talk?"

She nodded with a sigh, then proceeded to explain her journey in the Fade and the plan she made with Wynne, about Justice being – maybe – able to do for her what the Faith spirit had done for Wynne. He listened in silence.

"Justice… he was the one being thrown around by the demon? Is he dead?"

"I don't know. I hope not. Maybe…" She rubbed her forehead. "I asked Zevran, as he was the one to pull him away. He told me it was hard to tell because a spirit's life signs are hard to read, but he said he wasn't moving, which is not a good sign."

"But was he willing?"

She let out a joyless chuckle: "No, that he was not." Alistair waited as she gathered her thoughts.

"I'm not so sure it was a good idea anymore. He was so… so conflicted. So tempted. I trust him, but seeing how he didn't trust himself, it… I want to live, but not if it means becoming an abomination. And I don't want Justice to go through this with doubts. It is his very existence he'd be putting on the line. The idea of becoming a demon scared him half to death."

"All right, so no demonic possession. Check. At least, there is still time, right? We can still find another solution. Maybe we'll discover some ancient Dalish secret, those are always helpful… or maybe the Circle could have something up their sleeve…"

She snuggled closer against Alistair's shoulder. "There's something else…"

She told him about Avernus' last offer.

When she was done, Alistair waited for a long while before speaking, trying carefully to find the right words, using a very neutral tone: "Are we… I mean, is it… is this a solution to consider?"

"No. Well, maybe. Maker, I don't know…" she mumbled, sitting herself straight. "I mean, it made sense when he said it to me. Some people are going to die anyway, why not have their death serve a purp… oh, damn it, no, I'm sorry but it's wrong, it's just  _wrong_. How would I live with myself afterwards if I agree to this?"

"Oh, I don't know," Alistair retorted, and he was surprised to hear the amount of bitterness in his own voice. "Maybe you'll do as I did the last time you asked me to participate in a blood ritual to save both our hides. You know, put up with the shame and guilt for a couple years and try to be happy to stay alive and not worry too much about the consequences…"

"Oh, please!" she exploded. "This is so not the same thing! I can't believe you would throw that in my face!" She got up and leaned over him, shouting: "Nobody had to die! You just had to have sex and you actually  _enjoyed it_!"

Her eyes went wide as soon as the words left her lips. She gasped, clasped both her hands over her mouth, but it was too late.

His anger and bitterness all but vanished. He reached out to her. "Kaylee…"

"I don't want to talk about it," she murmured through her fingers, stumbling back, away from his reach.

Alistair stared at her silently, then stood up and started to unbutton his shirt. She looked at him with stupefaction. "What are you doing?" she breathed.

"You don't want to talk about it, so I won't talk," he said, stripping to his smallclothes. "I'm going to show you instead." He walked up to her, slid his hands on her shoulder, making her loose sleeping gown fall to the ground. Her stunned, wary gaze was still on him.

"You're going to  _show me_?" she repeated, incredulous.

He circled her waist with one arm, bringing her body flush against his, making one of her knee slip between his legs, her hip brush against him. She pushed against his chest, hard, in protest, but could not make him move one bit. He brought his other hand to her face, tilting her head slightly.

"You're so stubborn," he chuckled softly. "Just let me show you already. We'll see if you'll understand sooner than I did. I am  _done_  feeling guilty about this." He held her tighter against him. "Now don't move."

He took her hands in his and guided them to his back, making her fingers curl so that her fingernails were resting on his skin. She arched her eyebrows slightly, but obediently ran her fingernails all the way down, then up his spine, along a well-known, well-traveled path, and he sighed involuntarily. "First…" he whispered, "she did this…" Her face hardened and she stopped her movement. He bowed his head, making her unmoving lips rest on the corner of his mouth. "Then…" he turned his head and her lips slid on the side of his jaw to come and rest just below his earlobe. He shuddered as he felt her teeth automatically nibbling at it, her soft lips suckling lightly. He tilted his head back and her lips came resting in the crease of his neck, in the little hollow spot just above his clavicle, and he closed his eyes when he felt her tongue flicker. Her hands resumed their slow movement up and down his back, fingernails scratching, and he sighed in relief and pleasure. She knew him by heart, his precious wife. So sad, that she wasn't the only one.

He tilted his head to one side, letting her lips trailed along his shoulder and he felt her teeth grazing his skin again. "… she did that…" he murmured hoarsely. She raised her head to look at him, but her expression was not angry anymore, more like cautiously curious. As she had done so often, she let her hands slide on his skin, lightly caressing his sides. The soft touch would have sent anyone else in a ticklish giggling fit, but she knew Alistair reaction was entirely different to her contact with this sensitive skin. She felt his breath quickened under her fingers, and his eyes darkened. "Now, now, how could you have known what she did next?" he teased, his voice hoarse.

"But how did she know all this about you?" she asked. He told her.

She jumped out of his arms in an instant. "She did  _what_? She… urgh… she did… arrgghhh!"

"My thoughts exactly," Alistair nodded solemnly, watching as his wife squirmed helplessly, rubbing her skin as if to get rid of some invisible filth.

"She… I… oh, I feel so  _dirty_ …" She grabbed her discarded nightgown and dressed promptly, shuddering in disgust.

"Yeah… who would've thought coming clean about something could have that kind of effect on someone…"

She glimpsed back at him, uncertain. "I still don't know how I feel about it all though…"

He sighed. "It's all right. At least you know now. No more secrets."

She relaxed visibly. "That sounds like a promise."

"It is." He extended his arms to her and after a moment's hesitation, she snuggled against him. "No more secrets," she repeated.

She felt him groan softly. "The sun's coming up already. We better get ready. No doubt we have a long day ahead of us."

"One more minute," she pleaded, and she knew he was smiling.

"All right. One more minute."


	21. Fire tales

The next couple of days were fairly busy for both of them. Work had piled up in their absence: people to meet, paperwork to settle, disputes to arbitrate. Kaylee also met with the court physician and the resident mage to assess the condition of her health. They gave her a strict diet to follow, as it was determined that she was severely lacking some important nutrients. He also gave her precise information on her fertility cycle, which he always did. It just wasn't relevant before. But now…

Alistair was pretty busy himself, and she sometimes went through whole days without even talking to him. He would already be gone when she woke up and went to bed long after she was asleep. Still, he found little ways to let her know he was thinking about her. She found a single rose on her pillow when she went to bed alone one night. He had a beautiful necklace of silver and greenstones delivered to her in her office, on a day she was so buried in paperwork she just felt like throwing all the carefully arranged piles of papers out the window. She frequently found little folded notes in her pockets, her books, under her plate. " _I love you_ ," they were all saying.

One day, she had a note of her own delivered to him in the middle of a meeting with his counsellors. " _Tonight. I'll be waiting. Don't be late. Love you too._ "

* * *

For Leliana, Zevran and Nathaniel, life at court was not so busy. It was, in fact, lazy, bordering on boring. They saw very little of their royal friends. There had been no word about some eventual visit from Weisshaupt representatives, no new idea on how to help a certain someone survive a very fatal loss of blood. They divided their abundant free time between training and sparring, reading, and spending lazy, comfortable evenings in front of the often deserted dining hall fireplace, playing some friendly gambling games with complicated rules or listening to Leliana sing.

That evening was no different. Zevran and Nathaniel were trying this new card game one of them had learned from some mercenaries at the Gnawed Noble, and neither of them knew half the rules. It made for some interesting, if moot, debates. Leliana was sitting by the fire, idly playing her lute.

"So now I show you my hand, yes?"

"Yes. I think. No. Wait. We show it together."

"All right, then. On three."

They both laid their cards on the table, eyeing the other player's hand, comparing it with their own. A long silent moment passed. "So… who won?" Zevran finally asked.

"I have absolutely no idea, so I'm gonna say… I did."

"Oh, that's just cheating."

"No, no, see? I have more of these cards here."

"You don't even know if that is good or bad."

"Well, neither do you."

They looked at each other for a minute, then sighed simultaneously, pushing their chairs away from the table.

"This is a stupid game," Zevran declared, sitting on the floor and leaning back to rest against Leliana's legs. Nathaniel sat in a chair opposing them.

"How about a story, then?" he asked. "You were a bard. You must have tales to share."

"You sound just like her," Leliana smiled, shaking her head. "It is true I have not been I a storytelling mood, these past weeks. All of the stories I can think of are horrible and sad, with… inevitably fateful endings."

Zevran reached back to put a tender hand on her knee. "Tell us,  _amora_. It might make you feel better."

Leliana stayed silent for a while, and the random notes she was playing slowly took a more defined, soft rhythm. The music was sad and sweet, when she began to talk.

"Once upon a time, there was a kingdom overlooking the sea. It was a small, beautiful kingdom, and the people that lived in it were industrious and happy. The king was strong and just, and he was married to a beautiful and caring queen. They had one child, a daughter, and she was their pride and joy. She was as fair and kind as her mother, and as fierce and just as her father. The people in the kingdom were all happy to know that one day, she would be their queen."

"But in the forest, not so far from the castle, lived an ugly, angry witch. She would watch the happy royal family in the castle from a distance with hatred and jealousy. 'Oh, how I wish I could be as happy and beautiful as the princess, and how I wish I could be queen and have all this power!' she would whine in the solitude of her small, dirty hut."

"One day, a desire demon heard her plea and came to the witch. It promised her beauty and power, and the which accepted the offer. The demon taught her blood magic, and it promised to come back in ten years to take possession of the witch's body, for such was the deal she made."

"Once in possession of these immense powers, the evil which started terrorising the villagers, throwing awful evil spells to ruin their crops and kill their cattle. Soon, the people went hungry, and called to their king for aid. The king sent his most trusted knight to deal with the witch. When the knight arrived at the small hut, he only saw a sickly old woman curled up on her pallet. Misled by her fragile appearance, he let his guard down, entering the hut to offer his help. The powerful witch then unleashed her magic upon him, extracting all the blood from his body to feed her power. She discovered that she could use other people's blood to replenish her own body, making it younger and more attractive. She began her terrorising strategy anew, hoping to get more of the precious blood from her victims."

"The second knight sent to the hut by the king found a lovely young woman waiting for him, beckoning him enticingly from the pallet she was laying on. No more prudent than the first one, he entered the hut unguarded and met with the same fate as his predecessor. The evil witch grew younger and more power-hungry than ever before."

"When the third knight came to the hut, he was wary, for he didn't know what had happened to the first two. He did not fall for the witch's carefully prepared act of seduction. He stayed on his guard and asked to speak with her from a safe distance. When the witch reluctantly agreed, he asked her what she wanted in order to leave the peasant's crop and cattle alone, so that the people could eat. 'I require blood,' she said. 'On the first day of each month, one of the villager will bring me his firstborn in sacrifice. Only at that price will I leave the peasants alone.' The knight brought the dire news back to the castle."

"Overwhelmed with sadness, the king mad a public announcement in front of all his subjects. 'If there is a man who can kill this witch and bring peace back to our kingdom, I shall give him enough gold to cover him entirely, and as much land as he can see without moving. But until such a hero shows himself, I am afraid we have no choice but to agree to the evil woman's demands. Each month, every father will take a pebble from this jar. They are all black, except one which is red. The father who takes the red pebble will sacrifice his firstborn to the witch.'"

"And for months, it was so. The attacks on the farms ceased, and the peasants started working in their fields again, although the village was now a scary and unhappy place to live. Those who tried to flee the kingdom found themselves caught in the witch's traps, and the villagers heard her laughter as she feasted on their blood. On the first of every month, every father took a pebble from the jar, and the father who took the red pebble led his firstborn to be sacrificed to the witch. The people knew that such was the price of everyone else's life."

"But the witch had greater plans, and her time was running out. She had grown powerful and gorgeous, but it was not enough. So she changed her appearance and went wandering in the village. The peasants tried to convince her to get away, afraid that the beautiful young girl they thought she was would be seen and killed by the evil witch. When the girl asked to know what was going on in the village that had everyone so scared, they told her the whole story. She cried and wailed in sorrow with them. 'But I do not understand one thing,' she said wily, and the people gathered around her to listen. 'Is the King not a father? Why does he not draw from the jar as you all do? Surely it is his duty to keep you all from harm from the evil witch? Maybe…' she leaned closer to them, whispering enticing, convincing words, putting them all under her spell: 'Maybe if the witch could have the blood of someone as pure and lovely as the princess, she would stop asking for more sacrifice.' The crowd surrounding her murmured in anger and revolt, and went looking for the king at the castle, shouting and brandishing pitches and forks, demanding that the king took a pebble from the jar in the next draw."

"While the King had the great doors of the castle barred to protect his family, the princess stood at her window and listened to her people's plea. She finally appeared at her balcony, raising her hands to demand silence. 'My people, I have suffered with you as your children were taken, and I can suffer no more,' she said. 'If you believe that my sacrifice will stop this madness, then there shall be no draw on the first of the next month, for I have already decided that I will be the one to be sacrificed to the witch. May my death bring joy and peace back to the kingdom.' As the crowd erupted in cheers, the king, who had heard his daughter's speech, sat on the floor and cried, for he knew there was nothing he could do now to protect his only child. In the crowd, the disguised witch was smiling wickedly, for she knew she had taken the first step to ruining the royal family and reign in their stead."

"There was someone else in the crowd who had heard the princess's speech, and it had filled him with despair. It was the third knight, the only one to survive the encounter with the witch. He was not the bravest of the knights, nor the strongest, the fastest or the quickest, but he had secretly loved the princess since they were both children. He decided he could not let the princess die and so he saddled his horse and rode far and wide in search of a solution. The witch, still in disguise amidst the people of the village, did not see him leave and so did not stop him. The knight spoke to hundreds of people, explored countless ruins, read a thousand books to try and find a way to get rid of the witch. But the month was ending and he wasn't any closer to finding a solution. He resigned himself to riding back to the castle unsuccessful."

"On the last night of the month, he was asleep and dreaming in his tent when a spirit came to visit him in the Fade. 'I am a spirit of Valor,' he said to the knight. 'I have watched you for some time now, and have found you worthy. Tell me what is it you wish to accomplish.' And so the knight told the spirit about his love for the princess and about the evil witch that wanted her death. The spirit listened to his story and recognized the evil ways of a demon working in the shadows. 'I shall help you in your quest,' he said. 'Take this bow. You need to dip the point of the arrow in the water of the castle's fountain. This water is pure and enchanted. When you see the witch absorbing the blood from her victim's body, that is when you need to strike, for that is her only vulnerable moment. You have to shoot her in the heart, and she will die.' "

" 'Thank you,' said the knight, and just then everything went black. When he awoke in his tent, the spirit's bow was at his side, and the sun was rising. He rode to the castle as swiftly as he could. When he got there, however, the guards told him that the princess was already on her way to the sacrificial altar. He dipped an arrow in the fountain, then got back on his horse and rode as fast as his mount could carry him."

"Meanwhile, the King was escorting his daughter to her death. He cried and sobbed as he tied her up to the altar, but she remained calm and serene, and even found the will to comfort her desperate father. When she was bound he turned his back on her and left her there, as the ritual demanded. The witch came to the princess when she was left alone, bouncing with glee, for soon she would feast on the most noble of blood."

Leliana's voice trailed on the last word, and she remained silent for a while after that, her fingers still playing the chords on her lute. Both men were staring at her expectantly, holding their breath: "And then?" Nathaniel finally asked. Leliana shook her head.

"There is one happy ending to this story, but the legend says it is not the real one. In the real story, the knight arrives too late at the altar. He gets there just in time to see the last of the blood leave his beloved's body, and by the time he notches his arrow, the witch is gone, and the princess lies dead. He goes back to the castle and wait. The princess's blood makes the witch more powerful than she ever was. As the witch uses her new power to storm the castle gates and kill the royal family, he gets another chance and kills the witch with the spirit's bow, saving the King. He then drops the bow, walks out of the castle and throws himself off the cliffs overlooking the sea. He wanders the Fade for eternity, forever in search of the love he could not save. Sleepers claim to have seen him in their dreams, crying and asking for help before mysteriously disappearing."

They all stared silently at the fire for a long time, after that. There wasn't anything else to say.

* * *

Kaylee was sitting at her vanity, slowly brushing her hair, when Alistair finally came in. She looked at him in the mirror as he walked to the table, discarding boots, vest, untying the laces of his shirt. She glimpsed his eyes widening slightly as he noticed she was wearing a thin satin nightgown that barely made it past mid-thigh, and nothing else. Her lips were silently moving as she tried to keep counting brush strokes, but she had lost count a long time ago and had been repeating the same numbers for a while, now. It was as good a delaying tactic as any.

He grabbed the liquor bottle on the table, poured two glasses, and walked to her. Putting the drinks in front of her, he gently took control of the brush, setting in aside. His hands lingered on her shoulders and, after a while, she reached up to touch one of them, her other hand closing around her glass. She sipped, not meeting his gaze in the mirror.

"Come," he murmured, taking her hand and leading her to the fireplace. She sat in the comfortable chair and leaned towards the fire, rolling her glass in her hands. He sat by her, nursing his own drink.

"If we wait," he said suddenly, "we could buy you more time. We have three years. If you get pregnant now, we might not even have that." She could see it had been weighing on his mind for some time.

She shook her head. "But if we wait, three years may pass without me conceiving. And then the throne would have no heir." She raised her hand to silence him when it looked like he was going to argue. "If we do not have a child in three years, I will still have to fulfill my promise. And if I… don't come back… then you will have to remarry. And consummate." Her gaze fell back on the flames. "If we have an heir… then you won't have to." She sighed. "I'm sorry. The thought of you with another… I just can't stand it. Even if I'm gone. It was hard enough the last time…"

She got up to refill their glasses, then sat back with a sigh, leaving the bottle at her feet.

"The options we have right now are not much of a choice. But if we wait just a little, at least until we find a way to keep you alive…" he pleaded again. She interrupted him.

"I want this. I don't want to wait. Don't push me away now, love. I need you…"

"I would never push you away. Never." He reached out to her, pulling her in his lap. Her head came to rest against his shoulder, and her lips trailed along the curve of his neck, found his earlobe and suckled lightly. She heard him suck air in through his clenched teeth, and he surrendered to her with a slight bow of his head, a soft sigh.

Alistair stood up, picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He put her down gently, laying himself down at her side. She rolled to get over him, her hands on each side of his head, her hair falling in a curtain around his face, and peppered slow, lazy kisses all over his cheeks, his closed eyelids, his chin, finally resting her lips on his mouth, and waited. He raised his head a bit in an automated response, applying some pressure on her mouth, and started kissing back, softly at first, then more fiercely. But his lips were hard under hers, his jaw unyielding; his kiss did not taste of tenderness and passion, but of sadness, and a hint of desperation. She broke the kiss, held her head back to look at him. He didn't open his eyes, turned his head to the side as if to avoid her gaze. "Alistair, please…" she breathed, and saw his face wrinkled as if her words had caused him pain. She bowed her head to kiss his neck, teasing the soft skin with her tongue, and she felt his throat shiver as he let out a strangled gasp. "Please…" she repeated softly, and with a sigh he slid his hands under her nightgown and pulled it over her head, then pushed against her shoulder until she lay on her back. He sat up, removed his own shirt and pants and tossed them on the floor. He leaned over her, naked skin against naked skin, and kissed her briefly, without meeting her gaze. His lips traveled down her throat, along her shoulders, then lower, between her breasts. She let herself get lost in the sensation of his mouth on her, and moaned helplessly when his tongue found her nipple. He stopped at the sound, and she felt his whole body shudder above her, his forehead resting against her breast. He pressed his whole face against her skin, inhaling a deep, shaky breath, then he collapsed on top of her, crushing her under his weight. He let out a muffled sound, halfway between a groan and a sob, and she felt her heart break.

Without a word, she slid her hands in his hair, smoothing his blond locks with her fingers. He crawled up her body to lay his head on her shoulder, his forehead against the curve of her neck. His hand came resting on the soft skin of her belly.

"I can't do this…" he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm sorry… Each time I touch you, kiss you, I feel you're already slipping away. It's like I'm pushing you to your death. If I love you tonight, and you bear a child from this love, it means we only have nine more months together. This was supposed to make us so happy, and now it just feels like a horrible nightmare…"

She slid a hand under his chin and forced him to look up at her. "This is  _not_  what's going to happen," she said with absolute certainty. She sat up and he followed her movement, finding himself on his knees beside her. She got on her knees herself, facing him on the bed. "Listen to me," she urged him, forcing him to meet her eyes. "We're going to find a way out of this. We always have so far." He shook his head, unconvinced. She took his hands in hers, placed them on her hips. His fingers started caressing her skin almost automatically. She shifted closer to him, one of her knees slid between his thighs as her arms wrapped around him and her hands clawed firmly at his back.

"What we have between us… this thing that's only ours… it has always been about  _fire_ ," she murmured in his ear. She let her tongue follow the edge of his earlobe, felt his hands pause on her hips as he inhaled sharply. "The lightest touch, the briefest glance, is all it has always taken to light it up, to make it roar." Her fingernails scratched their way down his back and she felt his body respond, almost involuntarily. "Ours is a fire that burns, and cleanses," she breathed, hot air brushing his skin, and she took his earlobe between her teeth, nibbled at it, while her hands continued their way down and clawed at his buttocks. He moaned softly, his hands grasping her hips and making them grind against him. "Fire that warms, and comforts." She let her body slide down his, her hands still firmly gripping him, holding him against her.

"Fire that consumes to give strength, energy, life." Her lips trailed down his throat, his chest, punctuating each word with a light kiss. He groaned wildly, grabbing her by the arms and making her straightened, bringing her up to look at him. His eyes were dark, and burning, and hard, and she returned his gaze without flinching.

"I need it. I need you to keep me burning," she said fervently. "I need to feel you, to touch you, to feel the heat. If I am to keep going and get myself out of this mess, I need this fire inside me, to fuel me." She lay on her back, dragging him with her, looking intently in his eyes. "I want you," she whispered feverishly. "I want your strength inside me, to complete my own. I want to bear your child, and make it so he can grow up knowing his mother." Their faces were mere inches from each other. She could see the determined set of his jaw, the burning intensity of his eyes, and she clenched her teeth, stifling a moan as she felt him thrust himself deep inside her. They began to move, slowly, purposefully, silently, staring at each other with a consuming passion. The steady rhythm sped up as the heat built up inside her, their breathing more and more shallow, and she wrapped her arms around his back to claw at his shoulders, holding on to him with all her strength. He didn't close his eyes, looking at her with the same fiery intensity and she stared right back as their body moved as one, grinding and arching and finally releasing in an explosion that left them gasping for air.

He collapsed onto her once again, and she chuckled softly as she ran lazy fingers up and down his shivering spine. "You were amazing," she whispered. He groaned against her skin. "I can't move," he sighed. "The things you do to me, my love… the Chantry was right to warn me." He tilted his head back to look at her, resting his chin on her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair. "There is nothing we can't do, if you're with me," she said fervently. "Never fear, love."


	22. Getting closer

**_Two years later_ **

"So?" asked Alistair when the door to his study closed behind his guests. "Did you find anything?"

Kardol shook his head.

"No, your Majesty. We put the funds you sent us to good use, and have partially recovered some of the lost thaigs. A lot of lost knowledge was retrieved. Nothing, however, could have the sort of effect you are looking for. On a brighter note, it can make warring against darkspawn a lot easier. The Shaper sends his regards. He has an army of assistants going through the Memories. He doesn't mind, says that it's an important thing to do once in a while, so that the Memories are not forgotten. So far though, nothing that could be of interest to you. But they are not done yet…"

Alistair dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "And you?" he asked the other man. Irving sighed loudly.

"We had no more luck, your Majesty. We cleaned up the basement and the attic, combed every floor, every room, every closet. We had all the mages and even some of the Templars reading day and night to go through every book in the library. We have nothing."

Alistair sank in his chair. "All the things we can do…" he sighed. "How can this be so difficult?"

"If I may, your Majesty… how is she?" Irving asked softly. Alistair shook his head slowly, and smiled in spite of himself.

"She's… restless. She's off somewhere in the Brecilian forest with our Dalish friends right now, exploring some ancient ruins or whatnot. She said they have the best stuff in there."

"Is that… prudent?" Irving asked carefully.

"You're asking me if she's pregnant yet, aren't you?" Alistair narrowed his eyes at him. "No, she is not. Do you have some helpful advice to give me on the subject?"

"Em… no… no, of course not," Irving stammered. Alistair's eyebrows raised in mocked surprise. "You're the only one who doesn't," he scoffed. "What, no special potion, no rare food or drink, no secret awesomely new position? You can't believe what we've heard already."

He stood up, showing his guests the door with a wave of his hand. "Thank you, sirs. Please keep looking. You are dismissed." When the two men were out, he let himself fall back in his chair with a long sigh, put his elbows on the desk and sank his face in his hands. He sat there, unmoving, for a long while.

"Well, that was very kingly of you, you know. That little wave of dismissal, the commanding tone? I am very impressed.  _Si, si_ , I assure you. I even have goose bumps. Everywhere. Want to see?"

Alistair groaned: "What do you want, Zevran?"

Zevran stepped out from behind the curtain, smiling: "Well, first I want to hear about these secret awesomely new positions you were told about," he said. "How could you have kept such knowledge from me when I always try to keep you informed on every new thing I find out? It is distressing, really." He sat on the desk, facing him. Alistair let his hands slide from his face to peek at him. "You don't even have goose bumps," he growled. Zevran's smile widen a bit, before disappearing. "So… bad news then. Do we have other options?"

Alistair shook his head. "No. That was it. Unless she finds something in those ruins…. I am officially out of ideas." He stood up, both hands on the desk, shoulders hunched, head low. "Could you… could you just give me a moment? I'll see you all later and we can discuss things further."

Zevran looked at him intently before nodding once, straightening up. He put a hand on Alistair's shoulder, comforting and reassuring, before slowly walking out. As soon as the door closed behind him, he heard a broken, strangled sob through the thick wood. Feeling his own throat tightened, he put a hand back on the handle, paused, then withdrew it with a sigh and walked away. There was nothing he could have said.

* * *

"So what's going to happen now?" Nathaniel asked, his dagger cutting through the air to slice Zevran's throat. Zevran avoided the attack with a slight, almost lazy tilt of the head, and narrowed his eyes at him. "You're not even trying," he scowled. "It is almost as if you do not truly want me dead."

"Well, yeah, you got me. Guilty." Nathaniel shrugged, and attacked again. Zevran deviated the blade with his own in a small flick of his wrist. "Faster!" he shouted. Nathaniel made a move to go for the throat again, quickly shifted his weight on his other leg and kicked Zevran hard in the abdomen. As the elf bent over, Nathaniel slammed the pommel of his dagger into his opponent's forehead, and Zevran reeled backwards with a sharp cry of pain. He shook his head to clear his vision, but when the world snapped back into focus, Nathaniel was nowhere to be seen. Still a bit stunned, Zevran felt a hard blow land on his back, struck with the flat of a blade. "Gotcha!" Nathaniel exulted. Zevran bowed his head slightly in defeat, then allowed himself to fall on the ground, hands clenched on his forehead. He felt blood under his fingers. Nathaniel quickly knelt beside him.

"I'm sorry," he said, applying a compress to the wound. "I was a little too enthusiastic there. I was so sure you were going to dodge it again…"

"Were you, now?" Zevran groaned. "You must think me ridiculously awes… ow!"

"Do you know what this means? We are both better than you now!" Leliana said happily, kneeling by his other side and handing him a healing poultice.

Zevran winced. "All it means is that you have both bested me once. This… this proves nothing."

"Do not listen to him. That was very good, Nathaniel."

"Yes, yes, very good. Now back to me. I need to be taken care of."

"Oh, you want me to _take care_ of you, sweet thing?" Leliana whispered mockingly.

"Uh… no. Somehow that came out slightly menacing. I'm good now." He got on his feet, only swaying a little. Leliana caught him by the arm, still laughing.

A servant entered the training grounds, apparently very relieved to have found them. "A message for you, sir!" he called out, handing a sealed letter to Nathaniel. As the servant walked back out briskly, Nathaniel broke the seal and read the letter. His face suddenly paled, alerting the two others that something was wrong.

"What is it?" asked Leliana, trying to read above Nathaniel's shoulder.

"Weisshaupt emissaries just arrived at the Warden compound in Denerim," Nathaniel said, letting the letter fall to the ground. "They asked for an audience with the King and Queen."

They fell silent, their faces hardening as they exchanged knowing looks. Zevran crouched to pick the letter up. "All right then. Let us do this."

* * *

"What do you mean, not here?" asked a suspicious Warden, speaking with a heavy ander accent. There were four of them, heavily armed and looking pissed, glaring at him from across the compound.

"The King and Queen are not in Denerim at the moment," Nathaniel repeated patiently, using all of his persuasion. "They left some time ago on a diplomatic mission with the Dalish. It is unclear when they should return. In the meantime, they left all Grey Warden matters to me. Maybe I can help you with something?"

The Warden that had already spoken turned to the others, then looked back at him. It was clear he wasn't convinced. Nathaniel wondered why he was the one doing all the talking. He was younger than the others.

"Every time we have sent Wardens to Ferelden to get some answers, these two have conveniently been away. They had to deal with a mother, or an architect, or problems in the… the bannok?"

"Bannorns."

"Yes, well, if they were trying to avoid us, they could not do a better job, I'd say." He folded his arms, his eyes narrowing. "And who are you, again? Were you there when the Archdemon was killed?"

"I am Nathaniel Howe. And no, I was not. I was recruited at Vigil's keep, after the Blight."

"Then how can you answer our questions? Or maybe you were there when she took care of the talking darkspawn? We would really like to know how that went down."

"Oh yes, I was there for that. It went down as expected. They talked, and then they died."

"And what about the one that did not die? We heard she struck some sort of… deal… with one of them and let him live? Do you know something about that?"

"I know nothing about that," he lied through his teeth. "Our Warden-Commander is very dedicated when it comes to killing darkspawn. I don't see how one could have survived an encounter with her."

"I see." The Warden looked back at the others again. "Then it seems like we will have to wait for the King and Queen after all. These… accommodations… are not sufficient," he said, looking around with a scornful expression. "We will take some rooms at the inn. Please come warn us when they return."

"As you wish." Nathaniel bowed and exited quickly, trying to calm the frantic beatings of his heart. He almost bumped into Zevran, waiting for him in the alley.

"So?"

"They did not believe me one bit," he said, breathless.

"Then we proceed as planned. Leliana is ready. See?" He pointed behind Nathaniel, who spun around to see the four Wardens leaving the compound, walking towards the inn. Leliana was stalking them stealthily, and none of them seemed to notice her. "If your suspicions are confirmed, tonight, we strike."

* * *

Leliana strode closer, trying to listen in. They were talking low, in ander, but she had been especially trained to be able to hear what she should not, and understand it too. Hard as she tried, though, she could not determine which one of the four men was saying what.

"So what did you think?"

"He was lying, obviously. Our sources tell us that the King is in the castle as we speak, and has been for months. The Queen did left with some Dalish elves, but rumor has it that she came back this afternoon."

It took all of her self-restrain to keep from cursing loudly. That was the worst timing ever for her friend to be back.

"But they are not… I mean, we can't…  _sense_  them."

"I know. I noticed."

"What does that mean?"

"We will need to talk to them to know that, won't we?"

"Do you think it is possible that… I mean… what if… if they are not Grey Wardens?"

"Then I'd say… something must be done about them. Don't you agree?"

They fell silent all the way to the inn after that. Leliana didn't care. She had heard enough. She looked back, nodded once in direction of a dark alley, then silently got in after them.

Time to play the game.


	23. Leliana's game

_Thump, thump, thump._

Her steady heart set the pace. She walked right past them, up to the counter.

' _Smile, tilt. Lean a little. Purr.'_

The poor bartender stood no chance. Between fond recollections of their work together during the Blight and the heavy hinting that he owed her one, she found herself with an apron, a servant's uniform, a tray and a private room for the night in a matter of minutes. She quickly changed in her room.  _'Like putting on another skin.'_ She hid some weapons around and shut the drapes tight. She got back in the inn's main dining hall, taking in her surroundings, the feeling of the room.

' _Breathe.'_

_Thump, thump, thump._

Her heartbeat was calm, steady. She was not afraid. Her footsteps were assured, her movements natural when she set the tray on her hip, pushed her hair back, smiled amiably at the clients. That life she had sworn off so many years ago came back to her with an almost comforting familiarity. This felt right. She knew how to do this, and how to do this well.

"Can I take your order gentlemen?"

She mouthed each word carefully, hiding any trace of an orlesian accent. The four wardens barely glanced at her.  _'Well, this won't do.'_

She took their order, bent over the table to wipe the surface.  _'Lean. Deeper. Whirl, and touch, slightly, brush against, lightly.'_

She felt the eyes of one of the men on her as she walked away to get the ales they ordered.  _'Sway hips. Turn, and smile. Blush.'_  Oh, how she knew this dance, the thrill of the chase. The man looked away hastily, but she caught the glow of his eyes.  _'Lust. Perfect.'_  She had found her mark. A big warrior, clad in his heavy armor, glinting griffon on the chest.

She looked at him as the bartender poured ale, imagined him, sword in hand, fighting against Alistair. Fighting against Kaylee. Winning. Plunging his sword in their hearts.

Zevran had told her again and again how he was trained not to let his emotions interfere, not to feel anything at all. The Crows trained their recruits to think that feelings were weaknesses. They were to steel themselves, turn their hearts into stone.

' _The Crows are fools.'_  She was never better than when she felt. Never as strong as when she loved. Never as efficient as when she feared. Love was potent. Fear was powerful. These emotions would not let her fail, would not leave her be until she succeeded. Marjolaine had been a selfish bitch, but Leliana had loved her, and the missions they did together, as a team… they were simply amazing. When Leliana had finally got her revenge for Marjolaine's betrayal.. well, that had been its own kind of amazing, too.

' _It is more fun when it's personal.'_

She undid a button on her blouse, winked at the bartender when his eyes almost popped out. She put the tankards on her tray, walked back to the table.

_Thump, thump, thump._

The heart was the key. To put one's heart in something, it meant everything. Love and fear and passion. Her work was a masterpiece done for love.  _'Slow, steady.'_  There was nothing these Wardens could do against her, now that she had decided their fate.

"So what are you Wardens doing in town? Here to visit royalty?"  _'Talk, lean, tilt head. Smile, nod, touch hair. Listen.'_

She knew stories about the Grey Wardens. Alistair had told them to her, and she had been an attentive student. People had the tendency to dismiss stories as irrelevant, untrue, a mere distraction. A true bard knew the importance, the meaning of a good story well told. One simply had to learn how to separate truth from fiction, and stories became very instructive.

She had listened and learned a lot, and now she listened to their stories as well, their lies about their motivations for visiting Denerim. She heard what they were not saying, in the glances they threw each other, the frowned brows, the slight hesitation in the voice. Whatever mission they were on, it was one that made them uneasy. These were hard men, bound not by honour but by duty. There was a harshness in the tone, a coldness in the eye. They were here to do what they thought must be done, however they felt about the task.

"Maybe we should go for a walk around the city before retreating for the night," one of them said, and they all moved to rise.

' _Touch sleeve. Bite lip. Blush.'_ "All of you?"  _'Smile shyly.'_  One of them had to stay. She could take care of one. That would leave three for Zevran and Nathaniel, out there in the dark alleys of Denerim. The warrior she chose earlier sat back. "I think I'll stay here a while longer."  _'I got you.'_

One of the Wardens looked at him thoughtfully. "Be careful," he finally said, before walking out with the others. Leliana saw her mark tense suddenly at the words and she swore mentally. She had been made.  _'Time to be less subtle then.'_

"So… I'm off right now…" She took the apron off, seating across the man, crossing her legs and bringing her feet up his thigh, slowly. "I have a room, if you wanna talk more… privately." She saw the man eye her, judging, assessing. Then he took a quick look around at the other clients. The crowd was rather large at this time of night, and she could almost feel his need to  _protect_. He nodded, once. They got up, walked to the corridor leading to the room. She unlocked, got in first. By the time he got in, closing the door behind him, she had removed her long skirt and was standing before him in tight shirt and boots.

His eyebrows rose slightly.  _'Doubt. Good.'_

"I can deal with you now, here," he said, hands on his weapons. "I know what you are, assassin." She laughed, a light, girlie giggle that made him pause.  _'Doubt. Again. Exploit.'_  "Me? I am no assassin." She took a step towards him, hips swaying, smile enticing. He took a small step back, bumping against the door, his eyes unsure. A hint of lust was back, thought, she noticed. Her voice purred as she walked towards him, slowly. "I am…"  _Step._  "…much…"  _Step_. "…much…"  _Step._  "…worse."

Her body was flush against his then. She reached around him, and saw his eyes widened noticeably when he heard the faint click of the door's lock. She smiled, letting her fingers trailed along his arms until they rested on his hands, curling around the pommel of his weapons. Her lips brushed slightly against his, her knee slid between his thighs and she pressed, lightly. "Care to dance, pretty thing?" she breathed against his mouth. He inhaled, sharply.

With one leap backwards she got out of his reach, one of his daggers in her hand, and she threw it with a flick of the wrist. He flinched, but it wasn't him she was targeting.

The lamp fell down, extinguishing with a soft 'woof'. The room went pitch black. She heard weapons being unsheathed and smiled. The warrior, in his heavy armour, was lacking something incredibly important right now.

Silence.

She could hear every step he took, every brush of his armour as he swung his blade, every one of his quick scared breaths. She silently retrieved her daggers from her supple leather boots.

_Thump, thump, thump. 'Slow. Steady.'_

"I'll call out," he warned. She giggled softly. He swung, but she already wasn't there anymore. "I was posing as a waitress. Do you honestly think the people out there are not my allies?" He swung, she evaded again. "You should not let me get out of here. I'll go after your friends. I'll kill them all. Better this stays here, between us, no?"

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. She understood the strategy. Making her talk was his only way of having the slightest idea of her position. It was funny, really, that he still thought he had a chance to touch her.

"You are here to kill them. The King and Queen." He took an hesitant step in her voice's direction and she rolled, crouching by the bed. "So you die."

"How did you know?" he breathed, and her chest tightened at his implied confirmation.

"Oh, please. If you have not figured out what I am already, then you are making this game really boring." She let her orlesian accent be heard this time, and he turned his head, trying to locate her. She rolled again to evade another swing of his sword.

"You're Orlesian? Wait… you're… a red-haired Orlesian  _bard_ , aren't you? … you're  _Leliana_?"

Her eyebrows raised.  _'Well, someone has done his research.'_  But she could not answer. She was positioned just behind him now, and she had to strike before his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"This doesn't make any sense," he whispered. She was standing so close behind him by then their bodies were almost touching.

"Death rarely does," she murmured in his ear, sliding a hand around his head and clapping it on his mouth to muffle the startled scream. She slit his throat quickly, neatly, and let him fall to the ground, gurgling.

' _One down.'_


	24. Zevran's game

He spotted them as they were exiting the inn. There were three of them.

' _Leliana got one. She's…'_  He clenched his teeth together.  _'Don't. Don't think about her.'_

With a small gesture of his hand he told Nathaniel to follow at a distance, and he went after the Wardens, moving with stealth, keeping to the shadows. He forced himself not to glance back at the inn, not to wonder what was going on in there, not to worry if she was fine.  _'Steady. Silent. Cold.'_

His gaze wandered up, to the towers of the castle he could see in the distance, above the houses. He forced it back down and bit his lip to keep himself from swearing aloud.  _'Don't think about them.'_

He had been waiting for almost an hour, immobile, crouched in the shadows of a dark alley where he could watch the inn's door. With each careful silent step his once honed body was struggling with the pain and stiffness that comes with long immobility. He had gone soft, over the years. This would have been nothing to him, once. Comfort and friendship and love had made him soft, and if he could not go back to the person he had once been, and right now, he would lose everything.

' _Don't think about them. Don't think about her.'_

It was just another contract. Quick and easy and fun. No feelings, nothing at stake. He paused, feeling a familiar coldness creep in his lungs, his heart, as he tilted his head slowly to one side, the other, then rolled his shoulder to ease his aching muscles. The Wardens had stopped, too.

"We should try to get closer to the castle," one of the Wardens was saying. "We need confirmation. We won't be able to get in but maybe just outside the walls we could sense something."

"All right. You should try and go this way," another answered, pointing towards city gates close to the Chantry. "We will try the other way, so that we go full circle around the castle. Let's meet at the gates afterwards."

The Warden who had spoken first nodded, already walking away in the direction he had been shown. Zevran gestured at Nathaniel to stick with the other two. He slid his thumb across his own throat, indicating that Nathaniel was to kill them if given the chance. Then he followed the lone Warden.

They walked across the almost deserted marketplace. Zevran felt himself falling back in some long forgotten patterns, jumping from shadows to shadows, striding soundlessly, keeping just the right distance. He hid behind Wade's shop, climbed the wall to cross to the back alley by running on roofs. He knew of a small lane just on the Chantry's side with no exit. The nearby well would make disposing of the body easy. At the end of the lane were some empty barrels. He threw his cloak over one, making it look like a hunched human form.

He climbed the wall surrounding the Chantry, fell on one knee and sat back on his heel. He retrieved a small vial from his belt, coated both his weapons with the dark substance, and the smell of it brought back old memories, along with a cold, focused sense of purpose. He leaned forward a little over the edge of the wall, looking down at the deserted lane. He saw the Warden coming around Alistair's sister's house.  _'Don't...'_

"Help!" he cried out softly. The Warden paused.

His was not a carefully thought out plan. It relied entirely on the Warden's desire to help people. Zevran still felt pretty confident in its success. Grey Wardens were often helpful to a fault. That's how he had gotten two younger members of the order to fall into the worst trap he had ever set up…  _'Damn it, Zev, don't!'_

"Please, sir!" he cried out again.

The Grey Warden walked to the entrance of the lane, peering into the darkness. Zevran carefully lay himself flat on the edge of the wall. As he watched the Warden slowly walk beneath him, towards the end of the lane, he felt something in his mind suddenly switch. He was in cold, smelly, rainy Ferelden no more. He was back in Antiva, and it was summer. He felt the warmth run through his body, his blood rushing in his veins, his body thrumming with the anticipation of a good kill. A wicked smile strained his mouth as he slowly ran his tongue across his lips. He was one cocky, arrogant, ruthless antivan Crow once again. And his mark was falling into his trap.

The Warden bent over the covered form, poked it with his boot. Silently, Zevran brought himself in a crouching position, then jumped effortlessly on the ground, cutting off the only exit. He landed soundlessly, stood tall, both weapons in hand. The Warden kicked the form harder, sending the empty barrel rolling. With a shrug he turned to leave and found himself facing the assassin.

Zevran took one step forward. A single ray of light from the Chantry's courtyard illuminated his face briefly before he was plunged into darkness again. He didn't know what the Warden saw in his expression, but it forced him to take a step backwards, hand on the pommel of his sword.

The words fell out of his mouth before he could think: "The antivan Crows send their regards," he murmured, taking another step. He revelled in the glimpse of fear he saw in the other's eyes.

"So they hired assassins to kill us," the Warden spat angrily. "Who are these people?"

"I was not hired by anyone," Zevran purred. "I am here of my own free will. Isn't this refreshing? It makes for a nice change to me, let me tell you." He continued advancing on his target, forcing him to back away until he had his back at the wall. The Warden drew his sword.

"I will kill you so fast you won't even have time to spread your wings, Crow."

Zevran smiled, a wicked, predatory grin. "Oh, please, do. It has been so long since a target properly resisted me. Killing you was already a sweet deal. Now you're just spoiling me. Now let's test those reflexes, shall we?"

He flipped his dagger, catching it by the tip of the blade, and threw it. The Warden quickly raised his weapon to deflect it, and the dagger bounced off his hand. Zevran saw that the blade had cut through the leather of the glove, lightly grazing skin. He drew another dagger from his belt, rubbed it against the blade of his one-handed sword.

"That was excellent, my dear Warden. Maybe you and I will have some fun together after all."

"Thank you. Maybe gutting you will be easier than I thought. I could take my time."

"Oh, trying to frighten me with promises of pain? Now you're losing points again.  _Tsk, tsk tsk._  So sad." His faced hardened as he leaned forward. "You think pain scares me? You know nothing," he hissed. "And you won't even know pain. Because, my dear Warden, I'm going to be very gentle with you, as you can already see, I'm sure."

The Warden's grip on his sword loosened, and the weapon came clattering on the ground. He stared at his hand in disbelief. "What did you do?"

"Paralysing poison. It is creeping up your arm as we speak now." Zevran closed the distance between them in a long stride, launching a full frontal attack. The Warden instinctively raised his hands to parry, and Zevran slashed his left glove, cutting skin again. He crouched low, swiped both the other's legs with his own, making him crash on his back. He jumped on him, straddling the Warden between his thighs and laying the tip of his sword on the other's throat.

"And now you can't hold a weapon anymore, and you are at my mercy. I think this is the time to beg for your life, yes?"

"As if you would spare me."

"Ah, but maybe you underestimate your power of persuasion. I can see you have great… assets that could be put to good use for proper begging." He could feel the hardened body under him, feel it tense and ready to bounce back, to throw him away. The Warden was not yet a done deal. He was strong, and determined, and Zevran had no doubt that the situation could easily be turned against him again. Maybe with proper distraction, his opponent's concentration could slip, just a bit, and then Zevran could go for the easy, satisfying kill.

He leaned above him, bringing their faces closer together and making his blade press firmer against his throat. "Hmm, such a tempting little treat you make, helpless and lying on your back, just ripe for the picking. Maybe your mad skills could sway me, no? Don't you think it is worth a try?"

"You talk an awful lot when you should be killing me instead. You think because I can't use my hands I am helpless? I am a Grey Warden, Crow. Do you know how many darkspawn I have killed already, how many more I could kill wit my hands tied behind my back?"

"No more than I, surely. Though I have to wonder, how many darkspawn is an Archdemon worth? Have you ever killed one of those, Warden? Because I certainly did. Well, not the final blow. That was done by those you intent to kill."

"Wait… you are  _that_  Crow? Zevran, was it?"

"Ah, yes, I see my reputation precedes me. I believe things should begin to make sense now."

"Actually, no, they don't." The Warden's voice was thoughtful, and Zevran felt his tense body relaxed slightly under him. Whatever the Warden was thinking, he was les focused, now. This weakness needed to be exploited.

"Ah, well, too bad for you." As he talked, he swiftly slit the Warden's throat, watching his eyes widen in surprise, before slowly closing.

"Zevran!"

Startled, he jumped on his feet, facing the entrance to the lane. Leliana was there, slightly out of breath, carrying a body on her shoulder like a potato sack.

"Yeah, kill the target  _next to_  the well. I should think about that next time. Can you help me please?"

Between them, they threw both bodies in the Chantry's well in a matter of minutes. They stood looking hard at each other across the well. The job was not done yet.

"Where's Nathaniel?"


	25. Nathaniel's game

To say that Nathaniel was  _confused_  was a huge understatement.

The two Wardens he was supposed to watch ( _'no, kill. I'm supposed to kill them'_ ) had stood a while longer near the inn, speaking low to each other in ander, and he hadn't understood a word of it. He had gone ahead of them, found a suitable elevated spot overlooking the path they had to take to get to the alienage gates. Zevran had indicated with his signs that this was their objective. It wasn't hard to guess where they would go next: through the alienage and across the alleys to the castle gates.

He crouched on the makeshift stage, in the shadows, bow at the ready. He could see both Wardens in the distance, walking slowly towards him. Cold sweat started trickling down his forehead and he wiped it before it could compromise his vision.

He could feel them, his brothers. He could sense the taint in them, similar to the darkspawn taint but different at the same time. He knew they could feel him too, without being able to pinpoint an exact location. For all he knew, maybe they simply thought he was somewhere in the market, enjoying a night on the town.

He held his bow up, notched an arrow dipped in poison. Zevran, amongst many other things, had taught him the science of poison. He could mix deadly, paralysing, debilitating and hallucinating ones. Tonight he went for deadly. The sooner this was all over, the better.

He had killed before, countless times without thinking about it. He really thought that this would be no different. But it was, and he felt terrified. These were not monsters, or bandits. He was not fighting to save his life. This was murder, cold-blooded murder. These people could have been his brothers-in-arms. He could have fought alongside them, lived, eaten, laughed with them, They were just like the Wardens at Soldier's peak, or at Vigil's keep. Anders. Sigrun. Oghren. Velanna…

He pulled the bowstring to his ear, aimed. His soldier's training told him that the one on the left was the commanding officer. It was made clear by the way the two of them were positioned, their attitude towards each other. Senior Warden, maybe? Warden-Commander? Probably not. His hands started shaking.  _'Brother…'_

He lowered his bow with a frustrated sigh. He could not bring himself to release the arrow.

' _You are doing this for them. For her. You owe her everything.'_

' _No. Don't think about her. Be cold.'_

' _If they die because I hesitated, I…'_

' _Maker, give me strength…'_

He wiped his forehead again, took several long, soothing breaths. He readied his bow again. The Grey Wardens in front of him did not have such dilemmas about killing, he knew. Leliana gave Zevran the signal before entering the inn. She had heard something, had gained confirmation that they were here to kill Kaylee and Alistair.

' _If I fail, and she dies, it's on me. My fault. Cousland blood on my hands as well.'_

Making sure to stay hidden in the shadows, he drew his bow, aimed carefully again. In the heart was always deadly, but it usually was heavily protected by armor. The neck was often more exposed, or the face. Shooting in the hand could also incapacitate the target, rending him unable to wield a weapon. With the poison on his arrowhead, all he really had to do was pierce skin, anywhere. The officer was wearing a leather armor that left a lot of skin around the neck exposed. Nathaniel chose to aim there.

The moment he was ready, a flicker of movement to the right broke his focus. The other Warden was looking directly at him. Nathaniel saw the light reflecting on the metal of his arrowhead.  _'He sees it.'_  No time to lose.

Nathaniel released the arrow, and the Warden moved. He spun, placing himself in front of his officer, facing him, and he got the arrow in the back of the shoulder. The officer's eyes widen in surprise as he looked at the other Warden, then beyond, in Nathaniel's direction.

"Run!" the other Warden yelled. "I'll take care of this one!"

The officer turned heels and ran away. With a glance, Nathaniel noticed he was running in the direction Zevran had taken earlier. Surely the assassin could intercept him. He brought his glance back to his new target, notched another arrow. The Warden was pulling the arrow out of his shoulder, drinking a healing potion. With a frown, he smelled the arrowhead carefully. Nathaniel saw his eyes widen, before his whole face contorted in pain. He threw the arrow aside.

"I know you are there. I can sense you, brother." The Warden's voice was strained, unsteady. He took an involuntary step forward, to keep from falling. The poison was acting fast.

Nathaniel did not answer, but his hands started shaking again. He breathed deeply, once, twice.

' _Stay focused. Don't let emotions get in the way.'_

' _If I talk to him maybe I can…'_

' _No! She needs me! This is my chance, to make things right again!'_

' _Calm. Steady.'_

"How can you serve them? Can't you feel something is wrong about them? They are not what they say they are!" His voice was growing desperate now, pain showing on his face. He swayed on his feet.

' _You are right about that. And you'll never know how much it costs them. You've sentenced them to death already.'_

The Wardens came here with the intent to kill their King and Queen. They had brought war on their doorstep. His duty was clear. He felt it in his chest as his heartbeat slowed. This new calmness, this sense of focus, this clarity of purpose he had been lacking.  _They_  came  _here_.

"You know what needs to be done, brother. In peace, vigilance."

' _Yes, I know what needs to be done. This isn't peace. This is war. And in war…'_

He stood tall, notched the arrow, drew his bow, aimed, and released. The arrow hit with deadly accuracy, through the throat. The Warden fell without a sound.

' _Victory.'_

* * *

Zevran and Leliana caught up with him as he was trying to pick up the body.

"Where's the other one?" asked Zevran. Nathaniel looked at him with surprise.

"He ran in your direction a few minutes ago. Didn't you see him?"

Zevran stared back at him for a long moment. "No, I did not. And I don't mean he passed by me and I did not see him. I'm saying he did not pass by me."

"I didn't see him either in the back alley," Leliana added. "Where could he have gone?"

"Maybe he's still hiding in the marketplace. We need to find him!"

But after taking care of the body, combing the marketplace and all the back alleys, they had to face the evidence that the fourth Warden was nowhere to be seen.

"What does it mean? Where could he be?" Nathaniel panted.

"It means he's a rogue," Zevran answered angrily. "And a damn good one. He played us. He must have passed by us a long time ago. Only one place he can be now."

They stared at each other, then their gazes turned simultaneously in the same direction.

The Royal Palace.


	26. Panic and fear

Kaylee strongly pushed the double doors to the throne room open, causing the few nobles gathered there to gasp and the herald to jump.

"The Queen of Ferelden! Ar…"

"Shut up!" she barked at him. She could see Alistair on his feet at the other end of the room, already halfway down the steps to his throne. She was exhausted and sore, and her body actually ached with the need to hold him.

"Out! Everybody out this instant!" Alistair yelled. The nobles almost tripped over themselves in their hurry to obey, startled and frightened by his unusually harsh, commanding tone. Kaylee removed her helm and threw it aside on the floor, her gauntlets quickly followed, and she was running across the empty throne room. Alistair jumped down the rest of the steps, ran towards her. They crashed into each others and their lips met, hungrily, ferociously, as they clung to each other with desperate strength. They both whimpered into the kiss, a strangled, pained sound, then started to talk at the same time in between passionate kisses, whispering half-formed sentences, barely parting their lips.

"… won't leave you anymore…"

"… gone too long…"

"… so afraid…"

"… what little time…"

"… need you now…"

" … always be there…"

Kaylee wrapped her arms around his neck and finally let herself relax. The kiss became less heated, more tender, and she revelled in the feel of his arms around her, his lips on hers. Her anguish and desperation subsided slowly under his loving touch.

Her relief was short-lived.

"Tell me you found something," Alistair murmured, his mouth still on hers. She pulled back a little to look him in the eyes, shaking her head.

"What about you? Any news?"

"Just bad ones, love. Irving and Kardol came by this morning. They didn't have anything."

"So it's over," she whispered. Her eyes closed and she let her head fall on Alistair's shoulder. He wrapped her tightly in his arms.

"Don't talk like that. This isn't like you," he scolded. "You're just tired. Come get some rest. I'll have a bath prepared for you when you wake up, and we'll talk about other options. We still have almost a year."

He gently guided her to their room, where he helped her out of her armor before putting her to bed. Exhausted, she fell asleep almost instantly, holding his hand.

* * *

Kaylee awoke with a start, for a second not recognizing her surroundings. It took only a moment before it all came rushing back to her.

She was back in Denerim, in the castle, in her room. Outside, it was dark, and it looked like it was late at night.

And it was all over.

Fear and anguish filled her mind again, absolute and overwhelming. There was no other plan, no good idea, nobody else to turn to. Her breathing got shallow and jerky, and she looked around in panic. She was alone.

She only realized what had woken her when someone knocked on the door again.

"Alistair!" she yelled desperately.

The door opened on a servant who shot her a confused look before heading for the tub. She was carrying a steaming bucket of water. She was followed by several others, and they all emptied their buckets in the tub before retiring with a curtsey. The tub was soon filled with hot water.

Alistair came in when all the servants left, carrying a tray with food and tea. She sighed in relief, the only sight of him soothing her raw nerves. He put the tray down on the table, walked back to the door and locked it, then he came to her, arms spread wide, and she snuggled against his chest, breathing deeply.

"I gave strict orders not to be disturbed for the rest of the night," he said, gently pulling her on her feet and helping her out of her clothes. "Come."

He led her to the tub and helped her in, then took off his own clothes and joined her. She spun to lean against him, her back pressed to his chest, and he let his hands trail along her arms in a light caress. She let her head fall back on his shoulder, closing her eyes and letting out a shuddering sigh of relief.

"So how were the ruins?"

"Empty. Well, no, not really. We had some random darkspawn encounters. Just… empty of anything useful." Alistair reached for the soap, lathered his hands and gently rubbed her skin. She sighed in satisfaction.

"So what now? What do we do?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "We wait and hope, I guess. I have no other ideas." She leaned back to soak her hair in water, lathered them and rinsed thoroughly. When she got her head back out of the water Alistair was staring at her, almost angrily. "What does that mean, exactly? Are we just giving up?"

"It means I'm scared, Alistair. The reality is overwhelming. The possibility of my death becomes more and more a certainty with each passing day. I really thought we would find something, you know." Her voice faltered and she swallowed slowly, trying to keep her tone steady. "I never even considered that I really was going to die. Because, you know, that's what we do best. Not die. There has always been a way."

She stood up and got out of the tub, wrapping herself in a towel and using another one to dry her hair. Alistair followed, wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to turn around and look at him.

"What are you saying, love?"

She took a deep breath before raising her gaze to meet his eyes.

"I am no hero, Alistair. You know me enough now to know that this is true. Through all these years we were together, you learned to see me for what I am. The naïve and lovesick scales have fallen from your eyes long ago."

She shifted closer to him, took his hands in hers. "I had to do very hard things in my life. Some impossible ones, too. Some hard choices, some deadly battles. Some difficult things, yes. But not a lot of heroic ones. When offered to take the high road, I did not choose to do so often. I was raised with good values, but they were soon crushed under the heavy weight of my impossible reality."

She felt his hands pressed hers slightly, comforting. She sighed softly. "There was only one way for me to keep going. I found a way to push through, to make myself do what must be done. I made it personal. I surrounded myself with allies I forced myself into trusting. I talked to them, offered them gifts, listened to their tales, because I needed to make myself care. Once I cared enough, it made some difficult choices far easier. I saved Redcliffe and refused the blood ritual to kill the demon because you asked me to. I spared the mages for Wynne's sake. I killed Flemeth for Morrigan. I took the assassin's contracts because I thought it would help Zevran. I refused that dragon cultist's offer of power because I knew how it would feel to Leliana to defile the ashes, but I drank Avernus's potion because I thought it would make me more able to defend you all. I took time to reunite Sten with his sword and Oghren with his Felsi during a sodding  _Blight_. I killed Howe for what he did to my family, and Loghain for what he did to the Grey Wardens. And I took Morrigan's offer because I just could not bear to lose you." She shook her head slowly. "Some were good decisions, some… not so good. But they were all ultimately selfish. For me, and for the people that are mine. So maybe it isn't love that's selfish. Maybe it's just me."

She raised her gaze to look at him: "Now I made one truly heroic decision, to sacrifice myself so that countless may live. But they are countless  _faceless_  survivors. I try to make myself care as much but… then I look at you, realize that I have to leave you to save them and I find myself… unable to breathe…" Tears welled up in her eyes and she valiantly blinked them away. "I don't want to do this anymore…" she whispered, her voice breaking. "I don't want to die…"

Alistair found himself speechless. The comforting, soothing words he knew he should be saying just wouldn't come out. He reached out, grabbed her shoulders and slid his hands up and down her upper arms in an awkward caress. Kaylee lowered her head, shaking it slightly.

"Well, that is all very touching," a low, heavily accented male voice drawled from the balcony. "But if you two don't keep talking, how am I to learn anything new?"

An arrow flew across the room, penetrating deep into the wood of the door, just above the handle. Another one sank in the ground just in front of Alistair, effectively stopping his move to rush to his weapons by the bed.

The shadowy form took a step forward, still keeping to the shadows of the balcony. He was a tall man, clad in leather armor with a hood low on his brow hiding half his face, bow in hand and at the ready.

"Now," he said, "let us talk more freely. I just jammed the lock on the door, and I have you at my mercy. Should you try to run, I will have you both killed before you could open the door. Should you call for help, I will have you both killed before anyone can get in. Should you run for your weapons… well, I think you get my meaning. But all I really want to do is talk. You've intrigued me just now. There are some things that need straightening out. Sit." He motioned to the table with the tip of his notched arrow.

Alistair and Kaylee glanced at each other, then started walking to the table, turning their backs to the man. They whispered fast, not looking at each other:

"Ander accent."

"Warden. From Weisshaupt."

"He knows, now."

"Where's Nate?"

"Nate? Is that one of the three assassins you sent in town to kill us?"

They turned to look at the man. He had just spoken loudly, making it clear he heard everything they just said. They sat slowly, next to each other, and spoke simultaneously:

"Three?"

"Assassins?"

The man slowly lowered his bow. "You sound surprised."

"We do not hire assassins. Well, I guess we did, once, but not for assassination. We didn't even know you were here. You said you met three?"

"Yes. A red-haired girl who was posing as a waitress at the Gnawed Noble, a blond elf that followed us when we exited the tavern, and a dark-haired Warden. Now if I remember correctly, he introduced himself as Nathaniel Howe this afternoon. So he would be 'Nate', right?"

Kaylee didn't answer, sank lower in her chair.

"My men are taking care of them as we speak," the Warden said, matter-of-factly.

"Your men are dead."

Kaylee's tone was detached, cold. She, too, was merely stating a fact. "Nathaniel was trained by the orlesian bard Leliana and the antivan Crow Zevran Aranai. These two survived through a Blight. I think they can handle a couple Wardens."

"Well, that is not what I've heard, at least for one of them," the man retorted, but his voice seemed to falter.

"Things are different. I believe that now he very much wants to live."

"Everything you say makes less and less sense to me."

"Well you wanted to talk before getting to the killing part. We agreed. We are two dripping helpless non-Wardens wrapped in towels. I think you are safe. Why don't you come and sit down with us. Show us your face."

The man hesitated, then took a couple steps forward, stepping into the light and removing his hood with one hand. He had a hard face, marked with multiple scars, short blond hair streaked with white and piercing blue eyes. His nose was crooked, as if it had already been broken and badly healed. Kaylee gave him about forty-five, fifty years.

She heard Alistair besides her gasp loudly. "No way…"

"What? You know him?"

The Warden's eyebrows arched slightly. He was looking at Alistair.

"No… not exactly. We had his portrait in the main hall at the old headquarters, over the fireplace."

"What?" Kaylee murmured, looking at the man with new eyes.

"He's the First Warden."

"Oh good," the man said, taking a seat opposite them. "Now that that's cleared out, I'm going to need some clarifications about who  _you_  are."

"What do you mean? Surely you have heard of us by now."

"Of course. But now I am faced with some contradictory evidence. You are obviously not Grey Wardens, which can lead to two conclusions, as far as I know. First one: you never were Wardens. Highly doubtful, but still plausible. Riordan never came back from Ferelden to report to me, all the Orlesian Wardens that were sent to Vigil's keep were dead before you arrived. No other Wardens than those you personally handpicked and trained were ever in contact with you. The fact that you are both alive after killing the Archdemon corroborated this theory, and made me very afraid that the beast was not truly dead for a while. What I failed to see was the benefits you could have reaped from the scam. With only the both of you as Wardens, being Warden Commander did not carry a lot of weight. You did not shy away from Warden duties, as difficult and gruesome as they might be. You had none of the advantages of belonging to the order. It got you persecuted, chased, almost killed several times, and could have kept you away from political power. And I do believe Riordan would have found a way to let me know if you were not Wardens when you met him. No, this possibility was rejected after some time."

"What is the other conclusion?"

"You're usurpers. Somewhere along the line you took the place of the real Wardens that reigned over this country. We received reports that things had changed in the past two years. You make a lot less public appearances, you often look worried or scared, you only meet with close counsellors and behind closed doors. You do not visit the Warden's keeps anymore. You were seen working with the Circle and the Dwarfs. Maybe you're mages, or know mages that can alter physical appearances, and had access to lyrium suppliers. An unofficial scout was sent to Denerim and confirmed he did not sense you. We believed you took out Kaylee and Alistair and put yourselves in their places, as King and Queen, counting on their hard-earned reputation and usurping their Grey Warden status. If true, this could not be allowed. I decided to come here myself to investigate, and kill you if need be."

They both listened to the Fist Warden with wide eyes and gaping mouths. Finally, Kaylee let out an incredulous snort. "That's insane!"

The First Warden narrowed her eyes at her. "Is it, considering the information we were able to gather on you? You seemed to have so many secrets to keep that you refused to meet my emissaries. All I had to rely on was gossip. I truly heard some far crazier things about you two. Archdemon worshippers?"

Kaylee opened her mouth to retort when a loud bang at the door startled them. Someone was trying to break through.

"Come on, help me!" someone yelled. "The door is jammed!"

"That's Nate."

The First Warden lowered his head.

A few more bangs, and the door burst open. The three rogues came barging in the room, weapons in hand. They stopped short at the sight displayed in front of them.

"Are you… hem… having tea half-naked with the man who wants to kill you?" Leliana's voice was beyond incredulous.

"Ah… no."

"The three of you are here," the First Warden said thoughtfully. "That means my men…"

"Are dead, yes." Zevran's voice was cold. "Guess what happens now?" He flipped his dagger, his eyes gleaming dangerously. Alistair raised a hand in a stopping gesture.

"Zevran. You can't. He's the First Warden."

"What?" Nathaniel breathed.

"You three should have come to us before taking matters into your own hands."

"Not that we don't understand… or appreciate… what you did. They  _were_  here to kill us," Kaylee intervened. "You should have told us," she said more softly. "We still have some things we need to talk about with him now. Please just… retire to your rooms. We'll talk later."

"All right," Leliana said after a pause. "Just… be careful."

She eyed the Warden suspiciously before stepping out, followed by Zevran and Nathaniel. Kaylee closed the broken door behind them as best she could, then sat back at the table. "Uh… sorry for your men."

"You were right. We were here to kill you. They protected you. If the four of us had gotten here, our attack would have been a lot quicker. I would not have had the time to hear you speak. It would not have stayed my hand, and given us time to talk. You would have died, or we would have, but none of us would be any closer to the truth."

"So you don't believe we're usurpers anymore?"

"Not after what I heard when I finally got to the balcony. And since you told me who was after us in the market. Somehow I don't think your legendary allies would have tried as hard to protect usurpers. You could certainly not have fooled them. But this raised a very important question, doesn't it?"

He leaned over the table, staring intently at them.

"What happened to you, exactly?"

**_  
_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.: I looked around but didn't find any information on the First Warden, so I tried to make him my own. If you guys know anything about him, I'd be glad to know!


	27. No more secrets part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: A special thanks to RandomWittering, whose beautiful story (over at ff.n) inspired the little Leliana/Zevran scene at the beginning. Zevran does need to deal with a lot of things, I believe. If you haven't read RandomWittering's work already, do yourself a favor and go do so now! But, you know... come back after and read mine!

_  
_

The door closed behind them, and Zevran started pacing their room with great strides, his face unreadable. Leliana put her back to the door and watched him.

"We did what we thought was best," she finally said softly.

He turned to look at her, then smiled, a dangerous, predatory grin that made her wary. His eyes were slightly crazed, always shifting.

"We did indeed," he purred. "Surely, now, there are some other things we should be doing, yes?" He advanced on her, putting both his hands on the door, on each side of her head. There was no softness in his features, no tenderness in his voice. He was hard and harsh and cold.

"Don't do this."

He arched his eyebrows in mocked surprise. "Oh?" He leaned closer to her, pressing his whole body against her, pinning her to the door. "Maybe you would like to reconsider? Mmm… I can be pretty… persuasive." He was purring in her ear, his tongue flicking playfully.

Leliana raised her hands to gently frame his face with her palms. "Zevran…"

"See? You are saying my name already. Wait until I make you scream it." His dangerous smile was returning.

"Come back to me," she whispered, and leaned in, putting her lips on his. He groaned ferociously into the kiss as he strongly pressed his lips against hers, his tongue forcing its entry into her mouth, his teeth biting her lower lip until blood was drawn. She did not pull back, kept her hands gently on his cheeks, but she did not respond. Under his savage assaults she kept calm and tender, only slowly moving her lips under his, and she felt it when it registered in his mind. There was a slight pause, a flinging uncertainty, and then he pressed even harder against her, crushing her lips in passionate desperation. Again, she did not pull back, and again she kept her part of the kiss very tender, gently stroking his cheekbones with her thumbs. His tongue flickered on her lips, this time asking for permission, and she surrendered, parting her lips under his, letting him taste her. He moaned softly, a guttural sound that almost resembled a sob, as his kiss softened, deepened, and he put her arms around her, lifting her from the door to hold her against him. They stood there, unmoving, lips against lips, before Leliana slowly pulled back, making Zevran's whole body shudder. He opened his eyes and they stared at each other.

"Thank you," Zevran whispered. Leliana nodded.

"You and I… we are the same," she said, and her voice was hard. "What you can do, the assassin you can be… it is part of you, but it is not who you are."

"It is who I can be, Leliana. You weren't there. In a second, it was like nothing had changed, like the past few years had never happened. I was back in Antiva, back with the Crows. And it felt… good. Natural. It scares me how easily I could slip back into this life,  _cara_. I am afraid of the part of me that still wants to."

"You can't just erase your past, Zevran. You can't pretend that it never happened, that it has no effect on the person you are today. The lover and the Crow… they do not need to be separate entities, like different personalities you have to switch to. I love you for who you are, Zevran. All of you. We're the same."

He leaned his forehead against hers, sighing. "What did I do to deserve you? How can I have been so blind all this time?"

Leliana chuckled softly.

"You think I've come to all these wise conclusions all by myself, do you? I had help. And time. Now you can have both. I'm here for you." She kissed him, slowly, deeply. "I think you should go look for Nathaniel, love. Bring him back here. He should not be alone tonight, left to deal with the burden of his actions. I help you, you help him, yes?"

"You are right," he said. "He should not."

"I'm going back to our friend's room. I know I can get to their balcony from ours."

"And how can you possibly know that,  _cara_?" he teased. She shrugged.

"It is right next to it. I'll hide and listen. First Warden or no, I don't trust his intentions an I won't let him get away with hurting them. I'll call out to you if I need help."

"Understood. I'm going to go look for Nathaniel. Be careful."

They shared a last kiss, then went their separate ways.

* * *

Kaylee and Alistair exchanged an uneasy glance as they took their places back after putting on some decent clothes. The First Warden frowned.

"Are you honestly thinking about lying to me now? Better liars than you have tried. Let me just say it would not be in your best interest to try and fool me."

"I think that asking us to trust you right now is a bit much, considering," said Kaylee, a bit harshly.

"I should not have to ask for anything. You owe me these answers. It is bad enough that I had to come here myself to get them, I can assure you, you are going to give them to me. Begin with the Archdemon."

The First Warden's tone was level, calm, and yet there was a coldness in his eyes, a hardness in the set of his jaw. His was a face used to commanding respect by force and sheer will. Kaylee, with all her bravado, quickly found herself looking away, avoiding the fierceness of his inquisitive gaze.

"What do you mean?" Alistair's voice was pure naïve innocence. The Warden's lips tightened, his patience clearly wearing out.

"How did you survive it? Was it not one of you that dealt the final blow? Is the Archdemon going to rise again?" He could not hide the hint of fear in his voice at that last part. Alistair shook his head, utter confusion plain on his face. Kaylee was amazed at how good he had become at lying.

"Kaylee dealt the final blow but… I don't understand… why would it rise again? We killed it, no doubt possible about that. Why would you think we had to die? I mean it was hard, but we survived…"

The Warden's resolve falter. "Is it possible…" he whispered to himself, and he glimpsed at Kaylee briefly. Anger contorted his face, then. "She betrayed you," he growled. "You're lying."

"What?" Alistair exclaimed, looking at Kaylee. "Are you crazy? What did you do?"

"Nothing, I swear! It is just… Alistair, I'm impressed! A bit disturbed, but impressed! How did you learn to do that!"

"Leliana taught me. And so not what's important right now! Don't you realize what is at stake here? And I was doing so well, too! You can't sit still and not have a facial expression for one second?"

"Enough!" the Warden's voice thundered, and his fist came down hard on the table. "No more games! You tell me everything  _now_!"

Kaylee felt for a second she was back to being six years old and had just been caught by Nan running in the mud with her nice shoes. She knew the only way out was the truth. Truth, and then heavy punishment, for sure, but lying would be much, much worse. "Damn it," she mumbled.

"Don't you dare," Alistair warned.

"What other option do we have? Worse case scenario, he kills us – well, he tries – , and then doesn't make it out of the castle alive. You won't, by the way," she assured him. "Best case scenario, he goes after Morrigan. That should get him off our backs for a while."

Alistair stared at her hard. "All right," he finally said. "I trust you."

Kaylee took a deep breath, turned to face the First Warden.

"I guess you should first know about Flemeth…"

And she told him everything.

About the Archdemon, anyway.

When she was done talking, he looked at them for a very long while, his hardened face unreadable. His breathing seemed to have quickened slightly.

"And this Morrigan… you let her go?" he finally asked, clearly struggling to keep his voice even.

"Yes."

"Where is she?"

"That is an entirely different story. I'm afraid this secret is not yours to claim, this time."

He leaned over the table towards them, his hands clasping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were white. "And the child?"

"With her, certainly."

He clenched his teeth together so hard they actually heard it.

"You do realize that this was a mistake?"

"You mean wanting to stay alive?"

"No, you fools, I don't mean that doing the ritual was the mistake!" He was yelling by then, and took several deep breaths to calm himself. When he spoke again, his voice was low, rumbling with anger. "The mistake was to not keep her close and heavily guarded. The mistake was letting the child go."

"Such was the deal we made. It was that or no ritual at all."

"Oh is that so?" he sneered. "Is that how much your word is worth? Are you honestly telling me you let the mother, the child and all traces of this ritual go because you could not come back on a  _promise_?" His tone was now dangerously calm.

"She… she was my friend," Kaylee said feebly. The First Warden let out a mocking laugh.

"Your friend, you say? I don't  _care_ what she was to you. You should have tied her up and thrown her in a cell until the child was born, until you were able to tell if it should be allowed to live. We needed to know if this untainted Old God's essence represented another menace or a potential powerful ally. It should have been carefully kept under watch. If this Old God's soul remembered his tainted life, he could have told us so much. It could have been a useful tool."

"So you're not mad about the fact that we unleashed an Old God's essence on the world, but you're mad that you don't get to use it? Am I getting this right?"

"If the beast is dangerous, we can handle it. I don't see how an Old God can be worse than a tainted Old God. Of course, we could certainly have handled it better if it was a child we could watch closely. I am not blind to the fact that it can prove a formidable ally. But now I guess we'll just never know, thanks to your carelessness."

"We might know soon enough."

"You should have…"

"That is enough!" Alistair's voice thundered. "You weren't there! You have no right to tell us what we should have done! You think I don't get it? You think I don't know what you did? You let us face this Blight all alone, the two of us, and I'll be damned if I let you blame us for our decisions now! You think you could have done better? All you had to do is be there!"

Taken aback, the Warden sat back in his chair. "We did not know…" he began carefully.

"Don't you dare give me that line! You knew! We couldn't get any messages to you but you knew the minute the Archdemon was out! We all dreamed about it, we all felt it! When you received no words from the fereldan Wardens, it should not have been hard to draw conclusions! You wrote us off as a lost cause, and you were probably even glad that it wasn't your country that was hit this time around!"

The First Warden eyed him thoughtfully, silently, giving Alistair a moment to calm down.

"We… I… actually thought it would be good for Ferelden to have a taste of the Blight. For too long your country have not taken the Wardens seriously enough. We are needed. Everyone knows it, everyone respects us. And now Ferelden knows it too. You both are living proof of that… your Majesties."

"You knew…" Kaylee breathed. "How could I have been this blind? You knew and you left us to die to teach us a lesson? What kind of a Grey Warden are you?"

"The real kind. We do what is necessary. The Wardens of Ferelden had it rough for a while. Before you, they were walking on eggshells, trying to prove themselves, using the Right of Conscription with caution, trying to build a reputation of heroes to win back the favor of the people. Grey Wardens are not heroes. Grey Wardens are not noble, not honorable. Grey Wardens kill Darkspawn. We eliminate the threat, by any means necessary. To do that, we need to be there. To be everywhere. We need to endure. Your people needed to be reminded that having Wardens was not a luxury they could live without. We would have come, once the Archdemon had officially been seen, once the Blight could not have been denied. The people of Ferelden would then have understood the error of their ways, and would never have denied the Wardens again."

"How can you sit here and try to justify yourself to us?" Kaylee hissed. "How dare you judge us for what we did?" The First Warden looked at her, considering her thoughtfully.

"Maybe you are right. Maybe I can't. But you can't judge me either. Or, if you must, judge me by the consequences of my decisions. You united the people of Ferelden, the mages, the Elves and the Dwarves under a single banner. You stopped the Blight and did not have to sell yourselves to the Orlesians to do so. Two Wardens now sit on the throne, ruling over a country that had once banned them. You are rebuilding the Grey Wardens without any restrictions. I stand by my decision. The consequences of yours are still unknown. I will reserve my judgement until then."

Alistair was seething with rage, grabbing the arms of his chair as if he was forcefully keeping himself seated.

"Do you know," he hissed through clenched teeth, "how many good people had to die for your little plans to work out? All the Wardens at Ostagar, my brothers… Duncan… all sacrificed so you can have your revenge on Ferelden's people?"

"This was never about revenge," the First Warden sighed, shaking his head. "It is about the greater good, in the long run. Ever since you slew the Archdemon, the darkspawn have been hard at work in the Deep Roads, looking for the next one. They are going to find it. We can't let our strength falter. The one thing that could have made my decision meaningless was the one you let slip away. With this ritual, the final blow on the Archdemon doesn't have to be dealt by a Warden, does it?"

"I… guess not."

"But the ritual is gone now. Wardens are still essential to end a Blight. So we need the strength that comes with number. We need to be strong, everywhere. I thought you would understand my position. You are Grey Wardens, yet you are rulers. Your people look at you for political guidance as well as protection from the darkspawn. Hard decisions should not be anything new to you. I thought you of all people would understand that I did not do it lightly. It simply had to be done, and I was the one who had to do it. Sometimes, good people  _have to_  be sacrificed."

Alistair bit back an angry retort as he looked sideways at Kaylee. The First Warden's words had struck her like a punch, and she was forcing her eyes wide open to keep the tears from forming. He took her hand in his, looked back at the Warden with defiance.

"I will never believe it's the only solution."

"How very naïve. I remember naivety. Let me tell you a story. I hope you'll find it enlightening. It is the story of how I lost mine. I was a young Warden back then, just out of the Joining. We had heard rumors of darkspawn attacks on some villages, far in the north. A small group of us were sent to investigate and deal with them. When we arrived at the first village, all that remained were corpses. Darkspawn and human ones, men and women and children that had been decaying in the sun for a week. We had to pile them up and burn them all, to avoid all risks of spreading the Taint. Then we put the houses on fire, and the farms with the animals trapped inside. We went through four villages like this. It took more than a month. When we got to the fifth village… something different was waiting for us. The men of the village had come forward to battle the darkspawn away from their families. They must had gotten the last of them, sacrificing themselves in the process, because no living darkspawn made it in the village. But the Taint did, when the women and children gathered fathers and husbands to lay them to rest. Dozens of women and children, sick with the Taint, lying down or lurching around, already half-ghouls. I still remember this one woman. The skin was peeling from her face, and she was hanging on to her children as they tried to get away from her to answer the call of the darkspawn taint. I remember the look on our Senior leader's face. This look, I will never forget as long as I live. He gave the order, and we slaughtered them all. Sick women and children in their beds, and we ran our swords through their hearts. We all knew that if we didn't, they would have spread the Taint farther in their attempt to answer the call. We killed them, burned them, and destroyed everything they owned. So you tell me now," he said, looking directly at them, his voice growing louder and hoarser, "were they not good people, these villagers? These men that died, sacrificing their lives to protect their families because the Grey Wardens were just  _too damn far away_ , and these women who wanted to offer their heroes, husbands and fathers a peaceful final rest, did they deserve their fates? Do you believe there was another solution?"

His voice faltered at the end, and he pressed his lips together, looking away. Kaylee and Alistair exchanged a glance, and Alistair nodded slightly.

"There is now," she breathed. "There is a cure for the darkspawn taint."

The First Warden's eyes grew wide. He swayed on his chair, steadied himself by putting both hands flat on the table.

"What?" he asked in a strangled voice. "What did you say?"


	28. No more secrets part II

"A cure was found. The last I heard from Soldier's Peak, they were almost ready for mass production. It apparently requires some items that are difficult to find and so it took time. It's painful and gruesome but it works. The Taint can be cured."

The Warden sat very still, his wide, unblinking eyes fixed on them. They could see his hands slightly shaking on the table. "A cure?' he finally breathed, his voice trembling. He swallowed loudly, licked his dry lips. "A cure?" he said again, and his firmer tone expressed so many conflicting emotions Kaylee felt her heart tightened. It was a tangled mess of hope and fear of hoping, joy and anger and sadness. His eyes closed briefly and a shaky sigh passed his lips. "A cure," he repeated, and this time there was only hope in his voice, and relief.

"You found a cure," he repeated slowly, and the reality seemed to settle in his mind the more he said it. "How did you do it? Deal with demons? Is that what you were talking about earlier, sacrificing yourself so that others may live?"

"Yes and no. There was a deal, but not with a demon." Alistair shot her a warning look, but she simply shrugged. They were now way past the lies. "With a darkspawn."

The First Warden inhaled sharply through his clenched teeth. "What?" Keeping from shouting had clearly been a struggle. His contained, rumbling voice made the one word overflow with dangerous meaning. Kaylee flinched.

"The talking darkspawn I spared in the Mother's lair. The Architect, the one that was conducting experiments on Warden's blood. Turns out his research, combined with one of our own… blood specialist's experiments, was the key to produce a cure. But he would only part with his knowledge on one condition: my untainted blood. All of it."

The First Warden's breathing became more and more ragged as comprehension dawned on him.

"The cure works  _on Grey Wardens_?" he roared, getting on his feet so fast his chair fell over and staring at them with wild eyes. Cursing in anders, he began pacing the room furiously as Kaylee attempted to explain herself further.

"Not exactly. It is not the same treatment. If a Grey Warden were to take the cure for tainted people, it would not work. It needs to be specially prepared. But yes… it exists. We both went through it. This is why you can't sense us. We are no longer tainted. No more dreams, no more Calling. There is a way out of the Grey Wardens."

The First Warden stopped in his tracks as her lasts words resounded in a sudden complete silence. Hands clasped behind his back, eyes gleaming wildly, he took in a deep breath, his intense gaze going from Alistair to her again and again.

"There is a way out…" he said. Kaylee frowned. His tone was not the one she had expected. Softer… no not really softer… just a hint of… what was that? She was still trying to decipher the meaning behind the tone when he suddenly advanced on them, slapping both hands on the table, leaning over them.

"This… this is what you should have lied to me about," he growled. "You were right to expect me to want you dead. It is the only way to keep the secret. If any Warden were to meet you… Nobody can know… Wardens are needed… there cannot be… a way out…" His voice trailed at the end. Kaylee looked at him, frowning again. There was something important happening here, a deeper meaning in what was not said…

He shook himself, quickly unsheathed his sword. Alistair made a move to jump on his feet, but Kaylee put a hand on his shoulder and he slowly sat back, glancing at her questioningly. "Wait," she whispered, her eyes never leaving the Warden's face. He stood before them, threatening them with his blade, but it was plainly visible that his hands were shaking uncontrollably. His eyes were strangely wide, almost pleading.

"It must be done. The secret must be kept. There is no way out. There can't be…" his voice cracked and Kaylee finally understood what was going on.

"You are having the dreams again," she said softly. "You are near your Calling."

He looked at her with desperate, wary eyes. "Don't do this," he warned, steadying his grip on the hilt of his sword. "Don't try to sway me. I will not have lived all my life protecting Wardens secrets to let myself be corrupted in the end. All the things I have done… they can't have been for nothing. There must be no word of this cure. The secret dies with you. I can't…"

"That's not entirely true. Avernus knows, although he will never tell. I don't even think he wants it for himself. The Architect knows…"

Desperation in the Warden's eyes suddenly turned to burning rage. In a swift movement, his blade came resting on Kaylee's throat, and it wasn't shaking anymore. "Are you telling me," he said, his voice dangerously calm and cold, "that there is a darkspawn out there, a talking, intelligent Darkspawn with the means to end the Grey Wardens?"

Alistair was ready to jump again. Kaylee kept a hand on his arm, instructing him silently to stay calm. "No. I only meant he knows that there is a way. As he kept his own knowledge from Avernus, our blood mage kept secrets from him." Staring into the Warden's eyes with defiance, she put a hand on the flat of his blade, pushed it aside. "You're acting this way because you fear that your own…  _condition_  will blind you to what needs to be done, but it already does. It is making you act rashly. You have not been unreasonable until now, so sit, and let us discuss this. You do not know everything yet. We did not go through this for our own benefit, and you must know what is to come."

He stared back at her, fuming, and it took a long time before her words seem to register in his mind. He abruptly put his chair up and sat back with a scowl. "And when I'm done listening, you will submit yourself to my judgement?"

"Well… we'll see. After all, we are not exactly Wardens anymore. But you've got nothing to lose by listening."

He watched them both in turn, warily. "All right, speak," he grumbled.

She told him all about the deal, about their need for an heir, about the delay they had been given, about their search for a solution. She spoke for a long time and did not spare him any details. She concluded by telling him what the Architect intended to do with her blood. As she spoke, the First Warden's expression slowly went from repressed anger to confused thoughtfulness.

"Darkspawn free of the Call of the Old Gods… intelligent, talking Darkspawn we can eventually negotiate with… this is a… disturbing thought, to say the least. I can think of a million ways for it to go horribly wrong, and yet… I can understand wanting to try it. But this Architect… how can you trust him?"

"I don't!" Kaylee said quickly. "Don't make that mistake, however polite and affable he can seem. He's still a darkspawn and he's only out for himself. I… I heard that in his research, he was the one to free the Archdemon and start the last Blight."

"So… not really less dangerous than your average darkspawn then."

"Oh, definitely not. He's a lot more dangerous, and too smart by far. But I do believe that he is honest in his will to free his own people, to put an end to this endless war. That is the only thing I trust about him."

The First Warden remained silent for a long time after that, his gaze unfocused, wandering around the room, never once landing on them. When he finally spoke, he kept his gaze on his hands, flat on the table in front of him. "So in less than a year, you…"

' _I'll be dead,'_  Kaylee thought, but the words did not get through her suddenly tightening throat. She just nodded. He ran a hand through his hair, looking confused. "And there is no way to avoid this?"

"There is a way… it's just… well, it's not much of a way." She told him about Avernus' ritual. He nodded once, did not comment.

"We're still looking," Alistair added. He reached out, caught Kaylee's hand and squeezed it tightly. She smiled ruefully at him, squeezing back.

"I need to think about all this," the Warden said, standing up. "Maybe… maybe speak with this Avernus. I need to… I need some time alone."

Something flashed in his eyes, something brief, quickly hidden, but Kaylee caught it.  _Weariness_. She knew the feeling well. It made her want to reach out to him. His burden was so heavy, and it was resting on his sole shoulders. He was the leader of a vast army of ruthless soldiers fighting an endless, hopeless war. The people of his country were turning away from their weak King to look at him for guidance. Alistair and her were not strangers to these burdens, but they were together, they had each other to share it, to carry it together. He had no one. He didn't have the luxury of creating bonds with people he could not really trust, people he was doomed to lose in the end. Not even the Wardens under his command. Especially not them, in fact.

He was alone.

"Wait," she said, standing up. She got to her desk, opened the drawer to get parchment and quill.  _"Avernus,"_  she wrote,  _"this is the First Warden. We told him everything. Do as he asks."_ She underlined "everything" twice, then looked up at the Warden thoughtfully, added:  _"Don't get killed, though."_

"If you're going to Soldier's Peak, give this to Avernus," she said, sprinkling fine sand on the parchment to make the ink dry. She folded the letter, sealed it with her personal seal. As the First Warden reached out to take the letter, she seized his hand, holding it in both of hers, crumpling the parchment a little. "Talk to him about this 'Warden cure'," she said. "An alternative to the Calling doesn't need to be a bad thing. Think about this at least. What if this secret was kept at Weisshaupt? The First Warden could ask all the Grey Wardens answering their Calling to go through the Fortress before going to the Deep Roads, offer them this way out if they agree to disappear and never speak of it. What's another Grey Warden secret, right? And even if you decide not to do it for everyone else, if  _you_ … well, nobody needs to know. Avernus is very discreet, and he doesn't speak with anyone anyway. Nobody needs to know. Not even us." She pressed the letter in his hand. "It's a way out. A chance at a new life, after all the sacrifices you made. You… think about it."

He just looked at her for a long time, his expression utterly unreadable, and Kaylee began to wonder if he had heard her correctly, when she noticed how very tightly he was clutching at the letter in his hand, enough to make his knuckles go white.

"There is a library at Weisshaupt," he finally said softly. Kaylee raised her eyebrows, confused. "I don't even know everything that's in there, but it is pretty big. It might contain some information you could find useful in your search." He let go of her hands. "You can't obviously come yourselves, but if you could sent someone trustworthy, I'll give orders to assist him in any way. Maybe that Nathaniel fellow I met earlier. He seems… resourceful. We could…  _I_  could… use someone with his skills and his… devotion."

Alistair got up to stand behind Kaylee, putting both his hands on her shoulders. "Does that mean we get to live? You won't try to kill us anymore?"

A hint of a smile played on the First Warden's lips. "Well, not today. I trust you to keep the secret, and I need to see how this will play out, now that I know what is at stake. I believe that we now… understand each other a little more. It would be better for your health if you stopped putting yourselves in such impossible situations, though. I'll be back to check on you. And to talk some more. Speaking with the both of you has been… well… let's go with  _interesting_. You have given me a lot to think about."

He extended a hand and Kaylee grasped it by the wrist in a strong, warrior's handshake. They stared at each other before releasing their grip in a silent exchange of mutual understanding. He shook Alistair's hand in the same way.

"I want to be kept informed from now on," he said. "No matter how things turn out."

Alistair nodded. "I'll find a way. It's nice, you know, not to think of you as an enemy anymore. It was… disconcerting."

"Same here." He nodded briefly, then started towards the balcony. "I better go out the way I came in, lest I disrupt your guards." With a last look back to them, he jumped over the edge, and was gone. Kaylee closed the balcony doors, and leaned her forehead on the cool glass. She felt Alistair's strong arms enlacing her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder, and she sighed with pleasure as he softly peppered little kisses behind her ear. She leaned back against his strong torso, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms on his.

"Well that was… bracing," he whispered in her ear. "Any thoughts?"

She opened her eyes and looked out of the window where the First Warden had disappeared. "I'm not sure what he's going to do now, honestly. We asked a lot of him. We'll see how he handles Avernus, I guess. At least he did not kill us outright." She sighed, closing her eyes again. "Can we just go to bed now? I feel like I haven't been alone with you in ages…"

"Your desire is my command," he whispered, picking her up in his arms and carrying her to the bed.


	29. Distraction

It took a while before Zevran succeeded in tracking Nathaniel down. He finally found him in the kennels, sitting on the dirty ground, taking care of the mabaris. He stood by him silently and waited, watching as he brushed Willow's tangled fur. The mabari was sprawled on his back, squirming in delight with each stroke.

"I almost shot the First Warden in the throat," Nathaniel finally said.

"But you did not."

"No. Oh, no. Instead I shot  _another_  Grey Warden in the throat. Probably for nothing. Much better." His hand tightened around the brush as he took in a shaky breath. "Maker, I'm a dead man. She won't be able to save me this time." The brush strokes became more erratic, more aggressive, and Willow complained with a soft whine and a tilt of the head. With a frustrated sigh, Nathaniel threw the brush away. "I killed one of my brothers, Zevran. How…" He shook his head slowly, closed his eyes. Zevran patted him on the back.

"Let's go somewhere more comfortable. Come back to my room. Leliana is spying on our friends right now. We could wait for more news at we talk."

Nathaniel hesitated briefly, then got slowly on his feet, his head bowed. "All right."

They got back to Zevran's room, where they sat facing each other. Nathaniel's gaze was fixed on the floor, his head hung low, his shoulders hunched. He opened his mouth after a while, looking like he was about to talk, but closed it before saying anything. He did that several times, while Zevran patiently waited.

"I can't talk about this yet," he finally said softly. "I… I have no words. I need time."

"That's all right, my friend. I could listen, but I'm afraid I could not give you much advice. This feeling of guilt, I never did experience it quite so deeply, I believe. Or maybe once, but I did not deal with it very well. I could, however, distract you with some tale of my many adventures, yes? I know a Warden-Commander who used to love them. She would beg for a new one every night."

Nathaniel shrugged. He seemed to be listening only distractedly, lost deep in his own thoughts. Zevran rubbed his hands together.

"Which one should I pick… ah, yes. Have I told you about the time I was sent on a pirate ship?"

"I don't believe you have, no." Nathaniel's voice was low, distant. His elbows on his knees, his face in his hands, he was staring at the floor as if his gaze could bore a hole in it. Zevran sighed inaudibly before continuing in a cheerful tone.

"Ah, good. See, I was sent by the Crows to take out a pirate captain. I was to infiltrate the ship as part of the crew, kill the captain when close to shore, and swim back to land to escape the angry pirate mob. What the Master Crow who gave me the mission failed to specify was that the captain in question was a lovely, fiery, gorgeous woman."

Nate shook his head slightly. "Of course she was," he muttered, but Zevran thought he could discern a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, no, dear friend, you'd be surprised to see how seldom that's the case. I'm just a very lucky assassin, as it has been pointed out to me many times now. So, as I was saying, the captain was this beautiful woman. All of her crew simply adored her. She had this air about herself, this compelling, inexplicable charisma that made a man willing to follow her to the edge of the world and beyond. It did not harm her case that she always wore these very tights black leather trousers and an almost translucent white fluffy shirt very open at the collar, a shirt that was forever falling off one of her shoulders and giving a glimpse of perfect perky little breasts…" Zevran sighed, and part of this sigh was relief, because Nathaniel was slowly sitting back in his chair to look at him. He was still slightly frowning, but progress was made.

"When the weather allowed it, she would spend her afternoons sparring with her men on the deck. She wielded dual blades, and used them in such a graceful, beautiful dance of death, I've never seen the likes of it since. She was a marvel to behold, whirling in a flurry of dazzling movement, her long hair twisting in the wind, dancing around her prey so lightly it was as if she could fly, as if her feet never touched the ground. None of her men could hold a candle to her fighting skills. I watched her for hours. I told myself I was studying her moves to better counter them, but mostly I found myself only staring dreamily. When night came, she would take her meal with the crew, then pick one of them to follow her into her cabin for the night. Each night she picked a different one, as those left behind looked at her leave with jealous, envious eyes."

"How many nights did it take before she picked you?" Nathaniel said, his voice almost teasing. "I'm guessing three."

Zevran shook his head, amused. "She never picked me, of course. I couldn't afford to be noticed in this manner. I worked hard to be invisible. Most of the crew simply ignored me, as did she. A shame, certainly."

He made a sad face, before continuing. "The crew were on some sort of treasure hunting mission at the time, one that quickly came to its successful conclusion. Amongst the many treasures was a crate full of finely aged brown rum. That same night, the whole crew celebrated their good fortune by consuming very large amounts of said rum. I thought this a good time to put my plan in motion."

"To kill her?"

"Oh no. We weren't close to shore, I would have had nowhere to swim to. No, I had another plan entirely in mind at this moment. You see, there was another chest that had held my attention, even more so than a crate of good rum. There was a chest full of gold bars amongst the treasures, and I knew I just had to get my hands on one of them. So I sneaked down to the lower deck where the riches were stored, and… I got caught by guards with my hands in the chest."

"You got caught?" Nathaniel's eyebrows shot up, and there was definite amusement in his voice. Zevran raised both his hands in an exaggerated gesture of defeat.

"Now, now, I'm an assassin, not a thief! They are not the same thing at all!"

"Don't they both require not to get caught?" Nathaniel teased, and Zevran let himself smile.

"Well you may be right about that. I was not careful enough. I thought everyone was drinking merrily. Anyway, I was tied up and brought before her. She was not pleased. "Bring him to my cabin. Make sure he's well tied up. I'll go deal with him myself in a minute," she said angrily. The men did as they were told, adding their own colourful touch to the whole process by pummelling me in the stomach for good measure. I was left alone in the captain's cabin, tightly bound to a chair. I tried to free myself but quickly discovered how ill-advised it was when the ropes started cutting through the skin of my bare wrists and ankles. So I just waited. It wasn't long before the captain made her entrance. She was furious. I can still remember how her face was flushed with anger, her breasts heaving with heavy breathing, the way she bit her lower lip…"

"Zevran?"

"Mmm? Oh, sorry, I got… a little distracted there. So she walked to her desk, mumbling in my direction that she had some inventory to finish and that I better stay quiet until she was ready to deal with me. Of course, I could not do that. Properly bound and at her mercy, I had only my words to get me out of this mess. So I talked to her."

"What could you possibly have said?"

"Well, I could not use my dazzling assassination skills, so I went with my other strong asset. I described to her, very meticulously and with great details, all the very pleasurable things I would like to do to her body if she would just untie me. I was… very convincing. She was standing with her back to me, both her hands flat on her desk and she tried to look as if she was reading some papers, but I could tell my carefully chosen words were having the desired effect on her. I could hear her breath hitched, see the hint of a flush on her cheek, the slight undulation of her hips, and I knew I had her exactly where I wanted her to be."

"With your words only? Aren't you pushing it a little, Zev?" Zevran was pleased to see he had Nate's undivided attention now.

"Oh, my dear friend, women are very… sensitive to words. If chosen carefully, words can be as effective as touch to arouse them. She was no exception. In her defence, I must say I am rather… talented, with my tongue. In every way."

Nathaniel shook his head in disbelief, but a small smile was playing on his lips. "And then?"

"Well, after a particularly… explicit comment on my part, she spun on her heels and advanced on me with such a determined look I was afraid I had gone too far. She leaned over me and slid a hand under the leather skirt of my armor, up my thigh. She murmured in my ear: "I just want to see if you're all talk, pretty boy," and a smug smile appeared on her lips when she found out that I was definitely not. "Nice… rod," she teased, and I have to admit the crude language combined with the ministrations of her hand made me gasp a little. Then she backed away towards the bed as she deftly unbuckled her belt, leaving me there all tied up on my chair. The belt fell down on the bed and she stood there, unlacing the front of her trousers slowly. She breathed: "Please go on," and I was happy to oblige. In fact, I was so effective her knees eventually just gave out, and she fell seated on the bed."

Zevran stopped, smiling slightly at the captivated expression on Nate's face. "And then?" Nate asked eagerly.

"And then her pants exploded."

Nathaniel snorted incredulously. "Come on Zev, even you are not  _that_  good with words!"

"I agree, though I am flattered this is where your mind first went to. I meant her pants actually exploded. She had some sort of exploding potion in one of her belt pouches and sat on it when she fell on the bed."

Nathaniel burst out laughing. "You're having me on!"

"Alas, no. It was, in fact, not funny at all, my friend, for it was lethal. She died on the spot. Killed by my ability with erotic language. A weapon I never got to use again, sadly. It was all a tangled mess when the crew came barging in and took in the scene. It must have been quite confusing, I guess, her lying in the bed in a pool of blood with her belt off and her trousers unlaced, and me tied up on the chair on the other side of the room with the evidence of my… condition still very visible. All I know is I found myself being untied, then quickly thrown overboard. I managed to remain afloat until another ship came by and rescued me. Another ship captained by, if you can believe it, another gorgeous and fiery woman. We became quick friends. Ah, but she was married… But this is another story."

Nathaniel chuckled softly for a while, until the laughter slowly subsided. He looked up at Zevran, his face more serious, but more relaxed than before. "Thank you."

Zevran shrugged. "It is what I'm here for. When you are ready to talk, my friend… I will be here. You can tell me anything, for as you can see, I am not one to judge." They both stood up, embracing each other in a comforting hug. Zevran felt Nathaniel sigh softly as his whole body relaxed against him.

That is how Leliana found them when she nimbly jumped back on her own balcony.

"Well, things seem to be progressing quite well here," she said teasingly, but her tiny smile did not reach her eyes. They turned to her, worried.

"You look like you are bearing bad news. Did it no go well?" Zevran asked softly. Leliana shook her head.

"It went well enough. They were able to make him see reason. He's just about to leave to go talk with Avernus."

"Did… did they talk about me?" Nathaniel asked hesitantly.

"They did, in fact. It seems like your dedication has impressed the First Warden a great deal. He wants you to go to Weisshaupt to do some research for our friends in their library. He said he could use someone like you."

Nathaniel slowly sat back on his chair, a bewildered expression on his face.

"This is good news, no?" Zevran asked. Nathaniel nodded slowly.

"I'm just wondering… how many times can a man be handed his own redemption by the people he wronged the most before his sheer dumb luck runs out?"

"One more, it would seem. Or maybe these people simply see in him a man deserving of a second chance," Zevran said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "But these are fairly good news, are they not? Why the long face?" he asked, looking at Leliana.

"I… learned something. Something I should not have. I'm not sure what to do with this information."

"What is it?"

"Alistair and Kaylee… they know of a way to save her. A ritual, involving blood magic, where two people need to give their blood in sacrifice to save her."

They stared at her in shocked silence.

_  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: I really wanted Zevran to tell one of his infamous stories here, but I was looking for a particular effect and so I was facing a huge writer's block. The challenges on the Cheeky Monkeys of Dragon Age forum got right through that block, and I came up with this story that fits in just so. A huge thanks and big hugs to all my cheeky monkeys! Hope you all enjoyed it!


	30. Gone

Months passed like days.

Nathaniel went to Weisshaupt, to do some research in their library. They did not hear back from him.

Leliana and Zevran grew restless, frustrated by their inability to come up with an acceptable solution to the approaching twist of fate. Most nights, they simply sat by each other, staring through the window or at the fire without saying a word, as the feeling of impending doom grew a little heavier each time.

Kaylee and Alistair barely left each other's side. Despite their best efforts and the unsolicited advices of their retinue, Kaylee was still not pregnant. They felt the pressure weighting down on them like a physical burden, and their lovemaking took a desperate edge as the dreaded deadline grew nearer.

Months passed like days, until a messenger arrived for the King and Queen, directly from Soldier's peak, bearing a sealed letter from Avernus. Three little words, centered on a square piece of parchment: " _He is here._ "

* * *

She was standing on the balcony, looking down at the city, when Alistair came in their room. Immobile as a statue, she didn't even turn her head when she heard the lock click. She looked so calm, so composed, almost thoughtful. It wasn't before he got much closer that he noticed the crushed piece of parchment in her clenched fist.

"Fergus has agreed to act as regent for a couple of weeks. It's going to take a few days to get everything in order. We can leave in a week."

She nodded absent-mindedly. Her lips were pressed together, and she turned her head, looking away from him without answering. He felt his heart skip a beat. He already knew, of course, what she was about to say. He had wished she wouldn't be able to gather the courage to actually say it.

"I don't want you to come," she whispered. "I can't… I won't be able to stand it… if you are there."

He put both his hands on the balustrade, leaning forward, looking down at the city. He did not want to be angry, he had already known she would ask this of him. He simply didn't know how to respond to this request. It was something he could never bring himself to agree to. An uncomfortable silence settled between them, as they both gazed at the distant horizon. She was the one to speak next, and when she did, it was as if she had been following his thoughts all along.

"Just promise me," she said, her voice shaking, "that you won't do it. No matter what, you won't ask others to die for me. Anyone."

His eyes closed, and he slowly bowed his head in defeat. That was exactly what he had been thinking about doing. Issue some sort of royal pardon to two death-sentenced prisoners, bring them to Soldier's Peak. Let Avernus work his magic. Take her in his arms again.

Save her.

All of a sudden he found it hard to speak. "I promise. I won't force this on anyone. I won't ask this of anyone." The words burned his throat. He opened his eyes, looked far off again. She shivered, wrapped her arms around herself.

"Maybe there is a good reason why political marriages are arranged. What we both have… it's wonderful, but… it is not healthy."

His breath caught in his throat: "Not… healthy?"

"There are lives depending on us, Alistair. We should make our decisions according to them. That's what I did, when I made this deal. When I'm in your arms, when I look in your eyes… all I want to do is take it back, consequences be damned. I want to stay with you and watch the world burn."

He turned to face her, staring at her intently: "You would never do something like that. I know you."

She kept her gaze on the horizon, her expression thoughtful.

"Maybe not. But I want to. Love is ultimately selfish, Wynne said to me once, back when she didn't approve of us. I was so angry at her when she told me that, but now I wish I could tell her she was right. It is not right, Alistair, that I don't know what I would do if I had to choose between saving you and saving everyone else."

"I'm not the one in danger of dying here," he protested. "I'm not the one that needs saving."

She turned, then, and looked at him intently. "I know."

"You're saying…" He paused. "You're saying those things to me because you think I might acknowledge feeling the same. You're…" He stopped and his eyes widened as comprehension dawned on him: "You're asking me to  _let you go_?"

She did not answer immediately, lowering her gaze to the ground. He tried to wrap her up in his arms, but she gently pushed him away. She chose her words very carefully before speaking.

"Alistair, you are the true hero of our story. You have a strong sense of right and wrong. You already sacrificed yourself for the good of this country by taking a crown and a responsibility you did not want. And you've become such an amazing king…"

"You're wrong," he whispered hoarsely, grabbing her by the shoulders. "I'm as selfish as you are. More, even, because I'm doing it for only one person, the only one I care about. It is all for you. Always has been. Always will."

Her hands were still on his chest, still trying to push him away, but her fingers caressed his skin through the fabric of the shirt as if she could not help herself. "Then do this last thing for me, my love," she said fervently. "Ask me to go. Tell me to leave. Push me away. Be the hero I can't be. The hero I need."

"I  _can't_ ," he breathed, his voice breaking. He cupped her face between his palms and leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes shut and allowing tears of frustration to roll on his cheeks. "The only thing I can do… is not ask you to stay." Her own eyes closed shut as her fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt. She clung to it desperately, slowly ripping it open. A dry sob escaped her lips as he sucked in air through clenched teeth. "The only thing I can do…" he breathed against her mouth, his lips almost touching hers, "is say goodbye."

He kissed her, softly, almost reverently, as his hands slowly worked at getting her undressed. His own clothes soon lay on the floor, along with her night gown, and he gently picked her up and carried her to their bed. If this was his last night with her, he had to make it a night to remember for the rest of his life.

His hands ran over all of her body, caressing her everywhere, slowly, revelling in the softness of her skin, committing every one of her lines and curves to memory. Then his lips trailed languorously on her cheeks, her neck, and he buried his face in her soft hair as he inhaled her perfume deeply, that distinct scent that was only hers, her own personal mix of herbs and flowers. He softly kissed every inch of her skin, moving his lips slowly down and up her body, relishing every gasp, every sigh passing her lips. He tasted her mouth, let his tongue caress her neck, swirl around her breasts, glide down her stomach then even lower, savouring the taste of her, delighted when he felt her shiver under his lips and heard her moan helplessly.

Only when she started begging for him did he cover her body with his, positioning himself, and entered her slowly, taking his time to savour the feeling of her tightness around him, of her body arching under his. His gaze roamed over her body as he started to move inside her, and he feasted his eyes on every little move she made, on the way her head rolled from side to side on the pillow, her lips parting slightly on a soft gasp, her eyes closing so tightly it caused her to frown a little. He kept his pace slow, willing the moment to last even as the heat built steadily in his loins, biting down on his own moans of pleasure when he felt her hips rise abruptly in response to his movements, urging him to go faster, deeper. He fought to keep control until she moaned his name, plaintively, whispering it like a supplication, a fervent prayer, and suddenly he was lost. His movements became quicker, more erratic, and when she raised her legs to wrap them around his waist, allowing him to go even deeper inside her, he knew he could not last much longer. The feeling of her muscles clamping around him and the sweet sound of her loud moan of pleasure was enough to send him over the edge, and they came together in blissful harmony. He lay on her when it was over, unwilling to move, nuzzling her, softly kissing her cheek, her neck, her earlobe, as her breathing slowed down.

When he finally withdrew from her she burst into tears, her whole body shaking with broken, strangled sobs as she rolled on her side, turning her back to him. He wrapped her in his arms, bringing her body flush against his.

"Let me come with you," he whispered in her ear. "Don't leave me here alone. Let us face this together, as we always have."

"Together," she repeated fervently, and she seemed to calm down a bit. He kept whispering soothing words in her ear until sleep finally claimed him.

When he woke up the next morning, she was gone.

* * *

"You wanted to see us, my friend?" asked Zevran, closing Alistair's office door behind him and Leliana.

"Yes," Alistair answered without looking up. His eyes were fixed on a little metallic object he was holding between his fingers, fiddling with it absent-mindedly. "I was wondering… how your forgery skills were."

Zevran raised his eyebrows in surprise. "As good as ever. Why?"

Leliana noticed the king's haggard appearance and she hurried towards him, frowning in concern. "What's wrong?" She glanced around, suspicion glinting in her eyes. "Alistair, where is Kaylee?"

"She's gone," he said, his voice husky. He kept toying with the little object, turning it over and over in his fingers. "She's gone to the Peak to meet with the Architect."

"You let her go  _by herself_?" Zevran asked incredulously.

"I didn't  _let her_  do anything," he growled. "She didn't want me to come."

"What… what are you still doing here?" Leliana shouted at him, visibly shaking. "You must go to her! Do something! You have to save her, Alistair! You… you are her knight!"

"Is that so?" he hissed angrily, finally looking up at her, closing his fist on the object. "Her knight in shining armour, her saviour? Is that who I am?" He shook his head. "That seems like a really nice story you've been telling yourself, Leliana. You think I don't want to live there? Except this is reality. In reality, I am not a knight. I am the King."

Leliana gasped, covering her mouth with her hand and shaking her head slowly from side to side in denial. "You… you are leaving her to die?"

Anger faded from his face, only to be replaced by pure agony. "She made her own decisions," he breathed. "I was just along for the ride, and now it seems I'm not anymore."

Leliana stared at him in disbelief for a long minute, took a step closer, and slapped him hard across the face. "All right, this is what is going to happen now," she hissed at him. "I'm going to take care of transportation. You are going to snap out of this and  _do something_! And you," she continued, whirling around on Zevran, "you stay here and slap him again if need be until his butt starts moving! Understood?" She barged out of the room without waiting for an answer. Alistair shook himself, and his face hardened, as if he had just come to terms with an important decision.

"Maybe we can still catch up with her, if she hasn't been gone for too long," Zevran said carefully. Alistair nodded slowly, resuming his fiddling.

"She didn't take a horse. I already asked the stable master. She's on foot. We can easily catch up. There are some things I need to do first, things that Leliana did not give me a chance to explain. I'm still trying to find a way to save her."

"What about the blood magic Avernus told her about?"

Alistair showed no surprise at Zevran's knowledge of the ritual. "She made me promise not to force it on anyone. It was almost… almost a dying wish." His voice faltered on the last words. "I won't do it."

He put the little metallic object on the desk and started towards the door. "I have some things to take care of. Just… just stay here. Have a look around."

"Have a look around?" Zevran repeated, bewildered. Alistair paused, a hand on the knob.

"Yes. And remember: I did not ask for anything," he said as he exited the room.

Baffled, Zevran walked around the desk, looking confusedly around the room. He sat in Alistair's chair, glanced at his work desk, and an incredulous grin slowly stretched his lips as he considered the various items scattered on its surface.

A quill and a bottle of ink.

Blank parchment.

Documents written in Alistair's handwriting.

A list of death-sentenced prisoners detained at Fort Drakon.

When his gaze fell on the little metallic object Alistair had been playing with, he took it between two fingers, shaking his head.

The royal seal.

"Alistair, you sly devil," he murmured appreciatively.

And then he set to work.


	31. Duty

It wasn't as hard as she thought it would be. She just had to go through all the motions, focusing on one step at a time, and carefully avoid to do certain things.

_Get up. Get dressed. Don't look back at him. Get the pack, get to the door. Don't look back at him. Close door, turn right. Don't look back at the door. Left, right, left. Go to the armoury. Put on armour – no, not the Warden-Commander one - yes, the dragonbone one. Take weapon. Put on hooded cloak, put on hood. Get out of the armoury, don't look left. Go right. Get out of the castle. Keep your eyes on the ground. Don't stop moving. Go forward. Left foot, right foot, left, right, left…_

So simple in nature, these little commands she gave herself. How could they, together, seem so very difficult?

When she allowed herself to look up for the first time, she was almost out of the city, and realized suddenly she was leaving on foot. She froze.

_Don't go back. Move forward._

She found the coaching inn a few miles out of town and bought a horse and some provisions. She kept the pace slow and steady to spare the animal's strength, wanting to keep moving as long as possible. The time she spent actually going forward was the easiest.  _Don't think, don't think, don't think_ , she repeated to herself, again and again, the words falling in rhythm with her horse's hooves. She stopped only to eat, to let her horse rest, or to try to get a bit of sleep. It was harder at night, when she was alone with only her thoughts, and more than once she was sorely tempted to go back. Most of the time, sleep eluded her completely and she found herself staring into the fire, trying hard not to dwell on what she had left behind. The horse needed to sleep, though.

She also quickly discovered she would have to stop to fight. Darkspawn were seldom seen as of late, but she saw, and killed, several of them as she got closer to the peak. They were no match for her, even without her ability to sense them, but she wondered if the increase in activity was a sign that something greater was preparing. The day before she got to the peak, she encountered another small group, this time led by a Disciple, which proved a bit more of a challenge than the others. The weariness she felt was beginning to take its toll and her movements were slower, uncoordinated. She killed them all the same, fighting not to collapse from exhaustion as she finally ran the Disciple through with her sword. The Disciple's last words, as he crumbled to the ground, sent a chill down her spine.

"For… the Mother…" he whispered with his last breath.

So the Mother's allies were gathering again. It was not only probable but likely they were coming after her, or… after the Architect. Fear gripped her throat.

 _Don't go back. Don't stop. Almost there. No sleep tonight._ She forced her feet to move, hauled herself up onto the horse, and kept going.

She was an exhausted, empty shell of a woman by the time she got to Soldier's peak. No one even glanced at her as she crossed the small marketplace and left her horse on the training grounds before she went up the stairs and entered the keep. She was beginning to think she would make it to the tower unnoticed when she felt a heavy hand fall on her shoulder.

"Hey, there, mysterious lady!" Anders said jovially. She lowered her head, keeping her face hidden under the hood of her cloak, and swallowed the lump forming in her throat.

"Are you sick? We got some beds in the common area up the stairs… but you don't… seem sick. Here to visit someone, maybe?" He caught a glimpse of the heavy armour under the cloak, and his expression suddenly turned suspicious. "How about you let me see that pretty face of yours?" he asked, reaching out and pulling the hood off before she could back away. His eyes widened and he stared at her in astonishment.

"Co…Commander?" he stammered. "How…?"

She smiled at him feebly. "Hey, Anders," she said softly. "Sorry for all the secrecy. I didn't want to draw attention to myself."

"Come this way," he said, guiding her to the office. She got the cloak off and sat heavily on a chair. Anders leaned back on the desk, facing her, and crossed his arms as he eyed her carefully. "No offense, Commander, but you look horrible," he ventured.

"I… hum… I'm sick again, Anders. I need to see Avernus right away."

He pondered that for a while, his expression concerned. "Is there something I can do?" he finally asked, uncrossing his arms and putting his hands on the desk behind him.

She shook her head. "No… not this time, my friend."

"If you are going in there, Commander, I think you should know Avernus is keeping a Darkspawn in the tower. It feels… it feels suspiciously like the Architect."

She nodded. "I know. It's all right. I kinda need him too. It's… hum… complicated."

"Yeah, figured that one out years ago," he said, waving a hand in the air. "If you don't want to tell me, then I sure don't want to know."

"How are things going around here? I encountered some Darkspawns on the way."

"Yes, we meet a few stray groups now and again since… well, since the Architect showed up, actually. Don't worry, though, Commander, we are ready for them. I did some heavy recruiting at the tower. Oh my, Greagoir was  _furious_  when I walked in there and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. Snatched ten of their best mages from them. Shook the Right of Conscription right under his nose. That was… magical." He chuckled. "Sigrun has been training the archers, and a special group of hand-to-hand combat rogues. We had ballistae installed. I assure you, Commander, we are not afraid of Darkspawn here."

She nodded. "Impressive, Seneschal."

He shrugged. "You know me, Commander. Impressive is what I do best."

She smiled. "I thought sarcastic was what you did best."

"Ooohh, you  _do_  know me then, don't you?"

Her smile faded slowly.

"Listen, Anders… the thing is… I don't think I'm going to make it this time. I have made arrangements… I have arranged for Nathaniel to succeed me as Warden-Commander. If they keep him at Weisshaupt, you are the next in line. I know… I know you will do great."

Anders took a step closer, his face creased in worry. "What? What are you saying?" She lowered her gaze to the ground, took a deep breath before looking up again, a weak smile on her lips. "Kaylee?" he said softly, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. The use of her first name threatened to shatter the fragile composure she had managed to maintain over the last week. She felt her eyes swell with tears and she quickly looked away. "Don't, Anders…" she whispered, wincing at the broken sound her voice made when she said his name.

"You're dying?" he asked, his voice filled with confusion. How can you be…"

Loud alarm bells cut him off, and shouts of warning resounded throughout the keep.

" _Soldier's Peak is under Darkspawn attack! Soldier's Peak is under Darkspawn attack! Everyone, get to your position!"_

Anders shot her a confused look, his expression torn between worry and terror. She got on her feet and grabbed him by the front of his robes. "Listen to me, Anders," she told him in the most commanding tone she could muster. "Whatever happens, to me or to the keep, it is absolutely vital that the Architect makes it out of here alive. This is a direct order. Understood?" He nodded without a word. "Good. Now  _go!_ " she yelled, and he spun on his heels and ran. She left right behind him.

She ran across the bridge to the tower and busted the door open. Avernus and the Architect both jumped at her sudden entrance.

"All right, I am here," she spat. "Someone wants to explain to me what the Fade is going on?"

* * *

Anders stopped short at the top of the keep's stairs. Everyone was moving in some sort of organized chaos. Shopkeepers were closing their stands and hurrying towards the safety of the keep. Wardens were running the other way, towards the gates. Sigrun was standing on the ramparts, already yelling orders.

"Get that sodding gate barred! Archers! To your position! Form the line! Shields, protect the archers! Anders! The mages! Come on!"

Anders shook himself and started issuing his own orders as Sigrun hurried to the other side of the ramparts.

"Mages! On the left! Protection spells! Shields, protect the mages! Mara, Katan, to the ballistae! Wardens, in formation!"

Archers formed a line across the training field. Each archer had a soldier on one knee in front of him, each soldier holding two shields. The mages, gathered to the left of the line, were bundled up together, already incanting. Soldiers holding two shields were right by them too. Sigrun, on the other end of the ramparts, yelled again.

"Rogue Team! With me! Get ready!"

Half a dozen of leather-clad soldiers hurried to her side. Other Wardens, more heavily armed and armoured, aligned themselves in front of the barred gates.

"Seneschal!" one of the Wardens positioned at the ballistae called out.

"What?" Anders and Sigrun shouted back at the same time.

"A Darkspawn is approaching! He's alone in front of the Horde. He has… he carries a white flag!"

"The… The Darkspawn wants to  _parley_?" Sigrun asked, bewildered.

They both walked up the ramparts to peer at the horde below. Approximately two hundred Darkspawns were getting in formation, pouring out of the underground tunnels. They spotted a dozen emissaries, and four ogres. One lone Darkspawn was indeed approaching, a Disciple bearing a white flag. He stopped a few feet away from the gates. "I want to speak to the Warden-Commander," he said in a grating voice.

"She's not here! You can talk to us, for all the good it will do you!" Sigrun called back.

"Actually…" Anders whispered hesitantly. "She's in Avernus's Tower."

"What?" Sigrun whispered back in shock.

"All right," the Disciple was continuing. "Here are my terms: deliver the Architect to us, and we will leave without attacking. Protect him, and you will all die."

Sigrun pondered that for a second, then looked up at Anders, her eyebrows raised in a silent inquiry. Anders shook his head.

"Her orders are that the Architect must leave here alive."

"Well if we give him to them alive, then we'd still be following orders, right?"

"Sigrun… this is serious."

"Oh really? Serious as a Darkspawn attack, you mean? By the bloody Stone, Anders, don't tell me I'm  _really_  going to die protecting a sodding Darkspawn!"

"The Commander… she told me she needed the Architect. She said… she told me she was dying."

Sigrun stared at him for a while, her expression unreadable. Then she turned to the Disciple, leaned over the rampart and yelled:

"You don't get squat! Come get it if you want it! We're ready!"

"Thank you," Anders whispered.

"Yeah, yeah, Anders. Now go put that honeyed voice of yours to good use. Tell our people what they are fighting for. They need to know she's here."

* * *

"You people have got to stop busting my door," Avernus grumbled, pushing the broken panel shut as best he could. Kaylee ignored him, her gaze intent on the Architect.

"Who's attacking us? Friends of the Mother?"

"Yes," the Architect breathed in his slow, gravely voice. "They have gathered again around one of her… favourite disciple. They seek… revenge."

"On whom?"

"On me." His voice did not betray one hint of fear, only a kind of disappointment.

"I need to go fight. I need to be with them."

The Architect shook his head.

"The sooner… we are through, the sooner I can leave. They will not continue to attack if I'm not here. Going through with the original plan… it is the quickest way to end this battle. You know this."

"We still need some time to get everything ready. You can change behind this screen," Avernus said, handing her a tunic. He seemed about to add something, thought better of it and closed his mouth, though his hands lingered on hers a little longer than necessary when she took the clothes from him. She realized that her hands were shaking.

"In an hour… maybe two… we will begin."


	32. Choices and consequences

When Zevran and Leliana finally caught up with Alistair, he had almost reached Soldier's peak. They found him standing next to an exhausted horse, staring intently at the narrowed path leading up the mountain. They were lucky to have caught up with him at all, seeing that their horses had to carry two people each instead of just one. They got off their horses and helped the two other men down as well. Alistair didn't even turn his head to look at them as Zevran came behind him.

"I don't understand," Alistair said in a whisper, his hand softly stroking his horse's mane. "I should have caught up with her by now. She was on foot."

"She must have gotten hold of a horse somehow," Zevran reasoned, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "But even if it is so, she can't have been that much faster than us. There is still time."

Alistair looked at him, then nodded slightly. "You're right. Of course you're right." He sighed softly, turning to face him. "What do you have there?" he asked, pointing behind him.

"Oh, I think you will be pleased with our selection," Leliana said, smiling coldly. "These poor excuses for humans deserve to die so much, I don't believe one death is enough for them. I hope this blood ritual is very, very slow and painful."

"Really?" Alistair asked hesitantly. "They seem… quite harmless."

One of the men was sitting cross-legged on the ground, staring into emptiness, nodding his head gently, grinning broadly and drooling a little. The other one hopped around Leliana, laughing and flapping his hands in the air, apparently very busy trying to catch invisible butterflies.

"I… slipped a little something in their water," Zevran said, his eyes wide in feigned ignorance. "It keeps them very docile and compliant."

Alistair shrugged. He was exhausted, terrified, and way past caring. "So are your horses ready for this climb? We should go as soon as possible."

"Lead the way," Zevran said, mounting his horse and hauling one of the men to ride in front of him while Leliana took charge of the other one. They engaged on the path one by one.

Halfway up the mountain, Alistair suddenly stopped, frowning slightly. "Do you… I mean, I can't sense Darkspawn anymore but… somehow I do right now. Do you feel anything?"

Zevran stopped his horse beside him and inhaled deeply. "My dear Alistair, you may not be able to sense them anymore, but those of us who didn't have your magical Wardens powers during the Blight soon discovered we could  _smell_  them just as quickly. This is what you 'sense'. There are Darkspawn nearby. A lot of them."

Alistair turned pale and kicked his horse hard. "The keep must be under attack! Come on!"

* * *

"Loose!"

A flight of arrows flew over the ramparts to rain on the roaring horde below. The Darkspawn were charging.

"Tempest!" Anders yelled. All mages raised their hands to the skies, and lightning descended on the horde of Darkspawn. A repulsive smell came floating over the keep, reminiscent of charred meat.

"They're sending the ogres to smash the gates!" a sentinel called out.

"Ballistae!"

The heavy war engines moved slowly, targeting the ogres that were fast approaching.

"Incoming arrows!" shouted one of the archers on lookout.

"Shields up!"

A wall of shields formed as the archers and mages fell on one knee behind them. The first flight of arrows from the enemy claimed no victim. The shields were lowered and the archers stood up, already nocking an answering wave of arrows.

"Loose!" the officer yelled again.

Another flight of arrows flew towards the Darkspawn horde, and several bodies hit the ground. The horde was almost at the gates by then. The ballistae sprung into action, and one of the ogres fell to the ground, as another started hurling huge boulders at the barred gates. The shock of the impacts made the ground shake.

"They are past the tunnel exits!" someone warned from the ramparts. Anders raised a hand and shot a small bolt up in the air. At his signal, Sigrun, on the other end of the courtyard, raised her sword high.

"Rogue team, follow me! Head for the emissaries!" she yelled, running to the tunnel entrance, quickly followed by her team.

"Mages! Get those monsters away from the walls!" Anders ordered, and the mages raised their hands again.

Fire rained from the skies, rolling down the ramparts and forcing the Darkspawn to retreat several steps. The ladders and ropes that had been thrown by the enemies against the walls were burned down, along with the Darkspawn that were climbing them. Another boulder hit the gates, and the wood cracked.

"They're getting in! Get ready for close combat!"

The order was repeated all across the field as mages retreated up the courtyard's stairs. Bows and second shields were abandoned as all other Wardens grabbed their melee weapons and closed ranks in front of the gates.

"Another ogre down!" yelled one of the men operating the ballistae. "We got some time before…"

He was interrupted by a loud  _woosh_  that Anders immediately recognized with a clutch of dread

"Fireball!" He yelled out the warning before taking cover. The Wardens fell to the ground as the gates exploded upon impact. The Darkspawn rushed into the courtyard, screaming in rage, weapons held high.

" _For the Grey Wardens!_ "

The collective roar resounded throughout the battlefield as the Wardens hastily got back on their feet and charged as one, the ground shaking under their steps. Anders, at the top of the stairs with the mages, peered in the distance, over the charging horde. He thought he caught a glimpse of the emissaries, far back behind the Darkspawn army, preparing another spell.

"Come on, Sigrun," he grit out between clenched teeth.

* * *

Sigrun and her team of rogues emerged from the tunnels, right behind the emissaries line. She signalled her men to get into position and they crawled silently across the path, each one coming behind one of the emissaries. With a swift move of her hand, she silently coordinated the attack. They lunged forward.

Seven backstabbed emissaries hit the ground without a sound. The rogues stealthily moved away as the five remaining emissaries slowly turned, hands glowing. Sigrun alone remained in plain sight.

"Ha! Gotcha you stupid monsters! Come and get me if you can!" she shouted.

Their gazes converged on her. She swallowed, trying hard not to glimpse at her allies as they used her rudimentary distraction to slowly circle the emissaries, getting into position to attack from behind again. The emissaries rapidly closed ranks and advanced on her.

Sigrun clenched her teeth, bracing for the blow of magic. She could clearly see her men were not going to get into position in time. "Doesn't matter, already dead, doesn't matter, already dead…" she repeated to herself between clenched teeth, straightening her spine as the emissaries stopped, their hands radiating magic. She raised her weapons defiantly, heard a soft  _woosh_  from behind her, saw a quick flash of light passed her, expanding towards the emissaries as they raised their hands, casting…

Nothing.

" _For Ferelden!_ " came a loud battle cry from behind her. One emissary cried out in pain, clutching at the arrow that was suddenly lodged in his eye as he fell to the ground. Sigrun spun on her heels and gaped in astonishment at the man charging towards her.

"Your Maj… Alistair!"

"Sigrun! Behind you!" Alistair roared in panic, trying to warn her. Too late.

He watched in horror as her body jerked forward, her eyes widening in surprise, her mouth opened on a silent gasp. She took an hesitant step, then looked down, staring in almost bemused wonder at the sword point coming out of her torso.

" _No_!" Alistair yelled, rushing past her and bashing the emissary in the face with his shield, forcing him back, then chopping his head clean off with a hard swing of his sword. Sigrun fell heavily to her knees, her hands gently pressing her stomach around the blade as she looked around with a confused expression. Alistair quickly knelt beside her, taking both her small hands in one of his to prevent her from touching the sword. She looked up at him, her eyes unfocused, blood dripping from the corners of her mouth, and blinked several times.

"I turned my back to him," she breathed, bewildered. "That was… pretty stupid, right?"

"Yeah," Alistair said, trying to smile. "That was really stupid." He gently picked her up in his arms, avoiding touching the sword. She whimpered. "You won't hear the end of it, when all of this is over. I promise you."

"Anders…" she whispered, fighting to keep her eyes open. "Tell Anders… he's not allowed to laugh… 'cause he does much… stupider…"

Her eyes closed, and her body went limp in his arms.

"Retreat! Retreat!"

Leliana's clear, urgent voice resounded above the battle sounds, and the rogues backed away towards the tunnels, leaving all of the emissaries lying lifeless behind them. Alistair rushed back with them, holding Sigrun's body tightly against him. "I've got her! Run!" he yelled when the rogues gathered around him, staring at their leader in shock. Zevran was waiting for them at the tunnel's entrance, with the two prisoners standing by him, swaying a little on their feet.

"Block it!" Alistair shouted as he passed him, not even stopping. When everyone was inside, Zevran activated the dwarven mechanism sealing the entrance. They ran back to the keep, drooling prisoners in tow. Sigrun's team furiously opened a breach in the horde of Darkspawn, allowing Alistair to reach the steps.

"Anders!" he roared, laying Sigrun's body down on her side. The mage's eyes widened with shock.

"Sigrun?" he croaked, falling to his knees beside her. "Is she…" Alistair patted him on the shoulder, already on his feet. "I don't know!" Part of him felt guilty that he couldn't stay with them, or even summon more fear for the poor dwarf, but… "I'm sorry! I have to get to Kaylee!" he shouted, running to the keep's door, Leliana and Zevran close behind, each one dragging a gleeful prisoner by the hand.

* * *

Kaylee was lying on her back on the small bed, her arms falling off on each side. She was only wearing a long white linen tunic that left her arms bare and covered her down to her knees. Avernus gently raised her head and slipped a pillow under it. "This is the most comfortable way to do this," he said, genuinely apologetic, before taking a deep breath. "I will not let your sacrifice be forgotten, Commander. Maybe I won't be allowed to divulge all the details, but the people will know you died for them. This I swear." She felt his hand on her hair, a brief, reassuring pressure, and then he was gone.

The Architect came up to her, holding some sort of thin hollowed sticks, very narrowed and pointy at one end. He took one of her arms in his hand, traced the pattern of a vein with his finger and quickly drove the tip of the rod into her flesh. She bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain. He set the other end of the hollowed stick above a clear, large vial engraved with runes, and the blood slowly started flowing.

"It will be slower this way," he said, circling around the bed to get to her other arm, "but it will ensure that none of your blood goes to waste." He drove the other stick in her arm, set it against another vial. She tensed, then let her head fall back on the pillow and finally allowed the tears to flow freely from her eyes. There was no sense in holding them back anymore. No sense in being brave.

This was it. The end.

"The rune we traced under your bed, once activated, will keep your heart pumping until all of the blood is out of your body," the Architect continued, unmoved. "When it disappears, you…"

"I understand," she cut him off, her voice choking. She really didn't want to hear all the details.

"All right," he said, backing away. He extended a hand and activated the rune, surrounding her in a bluish white light. She sighed, her breath shaky, and the soft sound broke into a strangled sob.

"Now we wait," the Architect murmured.

Avernus sat by the bed and she found herself oddly comforted by his presence. It would have been unbearable, being there with the Architect alone. Her arms hurt a little and she struggled not to move them.

She thought it could be a good time to pray, but words for the Maker didn't come out. Surely that was some sort of blasphemy, not spending time to make peace with the Maker before the end. She wondered what kind of Fade awaited her on the other end. Maybe filled with brightly colored pillows. She liked pillows. After so many nights sleeping on cold, hard grounds during the Blight, she found out she couldn't get enough of them. Or maybe it will be filled with all of the demons she had pissed off during her life, awaiting for revenge… unlikely, since most of the pissed off demons were already thoroughly destroyed. Maybe pissed off demon parts, then. She almost laughed out loud. She was feeling a little light-headed.

Light-headedness soon gave way to dizziness, and her head rolled from side to side. She blinked several times, trying to bring the world back into focus. She breathed deeply, forcing herself to remain unmoving. She felt cold. She tried to speak, maybe ask for a blanket, but it was hard to concentrate, even on such a trivial task. Her heart started beating faster, and she felt the magic working, keeping it steady. "Cold…" she managed to whisper. Avernus put a warm hand on her brow. "I know. I'm sorry. Nothing can keep you warm now."

The world was spinning out of control and small, bright spots were blurring her vision more and more. Closing her eyes…  _didn't help_ , and she clenched her teeth together, fighting waves of nausea. She tried to focus on something, but nothing made sense anymore. When the door burst open and she saw who was coming in, she was sure she had started hallucinating. Alistair rushed to her side.

"I'm here," he said, leaning over her. She licked her lips, concentrating hard. She had something to say, something… important.

"Did you… bring pillows?"

"What?" Alistair looked up at Avernus, panic in his eyes.

"She's confused. Maybe she thinks you're not really here."

"I'm here," he repeated fervently, caressing her brow, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I'm here, Kaylee."

When he touched her, her eyes widened, and the whole world snapped back into focus for one second. She saw him.

"No…" she breathed, as sudden darkness engulfed her, and she lost consciousness.


	33. Cavalry

Anders carefully removed the sword and poured all the healing magic he had into Sigrun's lifeless body. "Please, Sig, please, open your eyes," he urged. "How am I supposed to do this without you?" He reached for his belt while pulling her behind the safety of the parapet, found an injury kit and quickly started unbuckling her armour. The wound was merely healed, not fully closed, and still let out a trickle of blood. He deftly bandaged her up, knocked a lyrium potion back and felt for her pulse. It was still there, but feeble and quick, too quick.

"Seneschal!" one of the mages yelled in a desperate tone. "We need you!"

He glanced down at Sigrun once last time, then forced himself on his feet and assessed the situation.

It wasn't good.

The Wardens were fighting ferociously, but the Darkspawn had numbers on their side and were slowly but surely gaining ground. The mages kept throwing healing spell after healing spell, and there were very few Wardens lying on the battlefield, but that meant none of the mages were using fighting spells, which could have given the Wardens an advantage. Anders knew he had to make a decision here, a decision he would regret no matter what he chose. His jaw clenched, and he closed his eyes for a second, breathing deeply. "I'm sorry Sig, you need to fight this on your own now," he murmured, then ran back to the mages.

"Surana, Amell, with me! We keep healing! All of the others, offensive spells! Make those monsters back away!"

Ice, fire and lightning descended upon the rear of the Darkspawn horde, unleashing chaos amidst their ranks. They kept raining down on their rear and flanks, where the risk of hitting allies were minimal. Darkspawn corpses started piling up at a much faster rate, but Anders soon realized in horror that it still wasn't going to be enough. The Darkspawn were too many, the Wardens too few. With only three remaining healers, Wardens started dropping like flies, their strength faltering. Hurlocks climbed on the ramparts, pulling the men off the ballistae and throwing them over the walls. The remaining ogre picked up a huge boulder, and a thrill of terror went through Anders when he saw that he was aiming it at the mages.

"Take cover!" he yelled, ducking behind the parapet. Most of the mages heard his call and found cover just before the boulder hit. Two of them didn't.

"Surana!" Anders shouted, motioning to the two badly injured mages, before turning his attention back to the battlefield, his hands aglow with blue magic. He got two other Wardens to get up and join the fight again and threw back another lyrium potion back. " _We can't go on like this,"_ he thought. Spirits needed lifting.

"Tari! Sanila! Mary! Alix!" he shouted, pointing at the only remaining ogre. The four mages nodded. "On three! One, two…"

The five stone fists hit the beast so hard he staggered backwards, crashing into the outer wall. He fell on his knees and collapsed heavily, the ground shaking violently upon impact. He did not move to rise again. Anders stepped forward:

"For the Grey Wardens!" he yelled, raising his staff. The Wardens answered his battle cry with raucous cheers, closing ranks again.

"For the Grey Wardens!" he heard voices answered his cry, but they came from far away, from… behind the horde. He squinted, trying to see beyond the melee, past the broken gates. A dozen men were fast approaching, swords held high. His breath caught when he saw the man leading them. He would have recognized that mane of dark hair anywhere.

"What's going on, Seneschal?" one of the mages asked, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him as he staggered backwards, almost falling to his knees.

"Something I never thought I'd see," Anders breathed. "It's the freaking reinforcements. From Weisshaupt." He sighed, realized he was crying in pure relief. "Nate's back."

* * *

"Do it."

Alistair's eyes never left Kaylee's face as he issued the order, his voice cold and unyielding, yet the hand that stroke her cheek was gentle, brushing away the locks of hair that clung to her clammy skin. She was so cold…

"Do what?" Avernus's expression was cautiously wary.

"The blood ritual. We have two volunteers. Do it."

"She doesn't want me to…"

" _Do it!_ " Alistair yelled, looking up at him, and Avernus backed away slightly upon seeing the burning rage in his eyes.

"I need my books," he mumbled, walking to his working table, followed by Leliana, Zevran and Alistair. "I've never done this particular spell before… ah, there it is." He picked up a heavy leather-bound tome and started flipping pages. The three companions gathered next to him, bending over the book as he began to read. The whole book was written in some sort of foreign language none of them could interpret, although it didn't seem Avernus had any problems with it.

"I see… yes… It's still too soon, I'm afraid. I must wait until all of the blood is out, or else I risk mixing her blood with the other's. It isn't dangerous, but it might compromise what we are doing here. I need to be next to her… no, wait, I need to be touching her. All right, then I need to…"

"You need to what?" Alistair snapped, his gaze frantically searching the page. His eyes widened when the white paper was suddenly splattered with red. "What in…"

The three of them looked up and quickly backed away, gasping. Avernus's eyes were wide with horror, his mouth opened on a silent gasp as both his hands grasped at his throat, blood gushing steadily between his fingers. He fell to his knees. The Architect stood behind him, a bloody dagger in hand.

"What… what did you do!" Leliana shouted in stunned dismay. "I thought you had a deal to respect!"

"I did. I gave three years," the Architect breathed slowly. "Did you honestly think I would leave the cure to the taint in your hands forever? He was the only one who knew how to make it, and now…"

Alistair's smite hit him with such violence he was blown all the way across the room, crashing into the wall. He slid down to the floor, unmoving.

"I'm going to  _kill you_!" Alistair roared in pure rage, ready to charge. Leliana and Zevran grabbed him on each side, trying to restrain him and barely succeeding.

"You can't kill him! Alistair, listen to me!" Leliana pleaded. "He must end the Darkspawn threat!"

"He won't! Nothing good can come out of it. Don't you see what he did? He's just a filthy traitor! He can't be trusted! He…"

They all froze, suddenly alerted to the noise behind them. Avernus was trying to speak, one shaky hand extended in front of him.

"I… call upon… the power… of the blood…"

One of the prisoner started floating, arched backwards and shaking violently.

"No!" Alistair gasped. "What are you doing?  _It's for her_!"

Zevran shook his head, as his hand found Leliana's and held it tight.

"He can't save her if he dies either, Alistair. He needs to touch her, and he can't get to her alive in this state. Let him save his own life." His voice was low and hoarse, tears welling up in his eyes.

Blood exploded out of the prisoner's body through skin, mouth, nose, and rushed towards Avernus. It gathered over his extending hand, spiralling in the air above him, and he seemed to draw strength from it. They all saw the huge wound on his throat closed slowly. He raised his head again.

"To… give… life…" Avernus breathed, extending his other hand with difficulty, and the second prisoner started floating as the first one collapsed lifelessly to the floor.

Avernus fell forward, slapping his hands in a pool of his own blood before him. The floating prisoner exploded in an eruption of blood that rushed to the crumpled form of the mage, penetrating his body.

"No…" Alistair breathed, shaking his head, slowly backing away. "It can't end like this…"

Leliana shook herself free from Zevran's embrace and ran to Kaylee's side, sobbing. Zevran advanced on Alistair, grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him and shook him slightly.

"Focus, Alistair," he commanded. "What do we do now?"

Alistair's gaze wandered around, confused. Both Avernus and the Architect were lying on the floor, neither of them moving. He ran a hand through his hair as his gaze focused back on Zevran.

"I don't know… if Avernus wakes up in time, we can try the ritual again… there's a war outside, maybe some of the people already dying would…" He stopped and his eyes widened. "Sigrun… Sigrun's dying."

Zevran took a deep breath. "Fine, my friend. I'll go get her. Then it'll be Sigrun… and me."

"What? No!"

"Yes, Alistair. It is fate. I wanted to die a long time ago and she saved me. And now I can die to save her. It is meant to be. Try to get Avernus to wake up. I will be back shortly."

"Zev, this is insane!" Alistair protested, grabbing Zevran by the shoulder as he was turning away. "Kaylee would never forgive me! And what about Leliana? Don't you…"

A long, low moan interrupted him. Avernus was slowly trying to get up and barely managing to sit. He leaned against the foot of the table, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. Zevran and Alistair knelt on each side of him.

"Avernus? How are you feeling? Can you get up?" Alistair asked gently. Avernus looked up at him, his expression confused. Then, a huge, creepy smile strained his lips.

"Hey, you… you nice people," he breathed dreamily. "Do you guys see… butterflies? Ooohhh… pretty…" he drawled, raising his bloodied hands in the empty air, staring at them in wonder. Alistair shot Zevran a furious look.

"It will wear off shortly," Zevran said, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. "It is not dangerous."

"Maybe not, but I guess that settles our little disagreement, doesn't it? Zev, _he can't do the ritual anymore."_

They stared at each other, then Zevran lowered his gaze, his expression defeated.

"Alistair! Something's wrong!"

Leliana's voice was panicked, urgent. Alistair and Zevran rushed to Kaylee's side.

"What is it?" Alistair asked, his throat tightening. "Is she…"

"No. I don't know. Her heart is still beating, she's still breathing, but the blood… the blood isn't flowing anymore."

Alistair looked down at the jar. They were almost full, but Leliana was right, there was no blood coming out of the sticks. A single drop of blood still clung to the tip, but stubbornly refused to drop, defying all gravity. It was as if it was frozen there.

"What is it? What's happening?" Alistair shouted desperately. Zevran was checking Kaylee's vital signs, raising her eyelids to look in her eyes.

"She seems to be in some sort of trance. I've never seen this before. But she's still alive, for now. We should…"

Kaylee's lips  _moved_.

They all froze on the spot. "Did she… did she say something?" Alistair breathed.

"I'm… not sure," Leliana answered, leaning closer to Kaylee's face.

Her lips moved again, and this time they all heard it, one single word barely above a whisper.

"Justice…"


	34. Walking both worlds

Kaylee felt herself  _floating_.

She was still horizontal, staring at the high ceiling, but felt nothing beneath her. She turned her head to look down and saw her corporeal self lying below on the narrow bed, Leliana sobbing quietly by her side.

" _This is it, then,"_ she thought. _"I'm dying. It's… not so bad after all."_  There was no pain, no worry. It was actually difficult to form a coherent thought at all, let alone something as complicated as fear. Her head felt fogged, numb, and she looked around in confusion, trying to make sense of her surroundings. On the other side of the room, she saw Alistair and Zevran arguing vehemently. Alistair seemed furious, Zevran calm and resigned. She couldn't understand a word they were saying, not that it really mattered to her at this moment. It was hard to make herself care about anything, really.

A flash of light suddenly blinded her, and she looked back up at the ceiling. A gap was opening into thin air, its edges black, with swirling purple lighting pulsating inside. The Veil was tearing. She felt she was floating up, slowly drawn to this doorway to the Fade. She tried to grab something, to hold on to the bed, but her ethereal hands just went right through it, and she was still inexorably moving towards it.

The light emerged from the gaping tear in the Veil and descended upon her, and she felt something pressing firmly against her ghostly chest, pushing her slowly but surely back down. She looked down at herself in wonder. The light upon her chest slowly morphed, forming arms, hands, fingers. Soon a whole body of white light was standing beside her, pushing her back down into her corporeal form with gentle but firm insistence. She looked up at him in dazed confusion. She knew him… Kristoff? No…

"Justice…" she whispered. Saying his name made contradictory feelings course through her simultaneously, feelings of safety and fear all mixed up together.

"Yes. I am here."

She tried hard to focus on him. This was… important, somehow. Important and unexpected. She should ask questions.

"How?" she managed to ask. Justice shook his head as if he couldn't believe what he was about to say.

"Your dead mage friend, Wynne. She is… relentless."

Wynne. She remembered a stern face and kind hands, feelings of reassurance and relief.

"She… found you?"

"Yes," Justice answered, and she thought she saw him shiver as he looked up at the portal. "She can be very… persuasive. I now know how a small child feels when sternly scolded by his mother. All the tears I have witnessed make a lot more sense to me."

Justice looked back at her and gave her a firmer push than before.

"Would you please stop fighting me?"

"I am not," she protested. His presence was making the fog in her mind lift somehow, and her thoughts were clearer. Memories of him came back to her, memories of doubts, and refusal. "Justice… why?"

"I thought about our conversation. About what you said. It's you, and it's me, and we have already done much together. We created a bond I am not willing to break. I don't think I can hurt you on purpose. It also gives me confidence to know that you can kick my shiny spirit butt back into submission if I let my desires get the best of me."

"Kick your shiny… Justice, whose dreams have you been visiting?"

He kept silent for a while.

"Anders's," he grudgingly admitted.

"I see," she mused, fighting the urge to laugh. "Well, what now?"

"I'm going to forcefully push you back into your body, and you will wake up. It will hurt like crazy, and it probably won't last very long, so listen carefully. When you're conscious again, there is one thing you must do if this is to work. The talent I taught you, the Spirit warrior technique… I need you to activate it. Force your body to walk both worlds, to draw from the Fade, and you will open yourself to possession. I will possess you, keep your heart beating and your lungs breathing until your blood can regenerate.

"And then?"

"When your body has recovered enough to function on its own, I will retire and let you live your life."

"Can you… are you sure about this?"

"Yes. Ready?"

"Wha…?"

He slammed her down.

* * *

"Justice? She asks for justice?" Leliana asked, confused. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, please tell me it means we finally get to kill that monster of a Darkspawn," Zevran pleaded, his sword already half-drawn out of its scabbard. He stopped his movement upon seeing Alistair's suddenly white face.

"No," he breathed. "Justice is a spirit. She asked him for help while in the Fade and he refused, for fear of becoming a demon."

"And now… now he's here?" Leliana whispered, turning pale as well. "Does that mean she can become an… an abomination?"

"Yes," Alistair nodded, his voice shaking. "That's exactly what it means." He backed away, ran both hands in his hair, his desperation plain on his face. "I can't… I can't let that happen."

"So we restrain her," Leliana said firmly. "We tie her down to the bed and we get the mages to lend a hand, like they did with Connor. Yes?"

"Yes…" Alistair said slowly as a glimmer of hope lit his face for a second. "How could I forget? Zev, the chains!"

Zevran rushed to the opposite wall and gathered armfuls of manacled chains, as Alistair and Leliana gently removed the hollowed rods from Kaylee's arms and stored the jars full of blood away. They tied her up tightly to the bed, wrapping her up with lengths of chains.

"Can a demon get out of these?" Zevran asked nervously.

"We better hope not, because if she gets free… someone already as powerful as her, with a demon possessing her…" Alistair swallowed with difficulty before continuing. "She cannot be allowed to leave here." His hands were shaking and he pressed them firmly together. "Understood?"

They nodded solemnly, their eyes filled with terror, and nearly jumped out of their skin when Kaylee started screaming in pain.

Under their astounded eyes, her body started to vibrate. It shone slightly, a bluish glow that seeped from every pore in her skin and surrounded her, sending fleeting tentacles of light whipping around her. Her head fell back on the pillow, and she was unconscious again. The whole thing had lasted less than five seconds.

"What the…" Alistair muttered, stunned. Leliana rushed to Kaylee's side and bent over her, her cheek hovering over her friend's mouth, trying to feel even the smallest movement of air.

"Alistair…" she gasped. "She's not breathing."

* * *

The Darkspawn lay dead. Every single one of them.

Anders fell to his knees, shaking uncontrollably from relief and utter exhaustion as victory cheers erupted all over the battlefield. Looking down at the remnants of the Warden army, he saw Nathaniel run swiftly across the courtyard and up the stairs. He fell on his knees in front of him and pulled him in a fierce embrace. Anders chuckled softly, a tired but heartfelt happy sound.

"Ho, do we hug now?" he quipped feebly. "I thought you were too dark and broody."

"Well, you scared me," Nathaniel retorted. "When I saw you all alone at the top of the stairs brandishing your staff, I thought you were going to get yourself killed, and then I would have had to come back and be Seneschal again. I couldn't have that." He let go of the mage, patting him strongly on the shoulder. "It's good to see you are well, my friend."

Anders's smile faded rapidly and he hastily got on his feet, half-running for a few steps before crumpling again next to Sigrun's unmoving form and frantically checking her vitals. Nathaniel crouched beside him, his face creased in worry.

"Amazing," Anders whispered. "She's still breathing. I think… I think she's gonna make it." He extended a hand over her body, casting an ultimate healing spell with what remained of his drained mana, and was rewarded with a light flutter of eyelids.

"She's waking up!" he exclaimed, laughing in relief. Sigrun groaned, not opening her eyes.

"Don't… laugh at me…" she moaned. "You… things… stupid…"

"Barely out of death's embrace and already insulting me," Anders sighed, but he was smiling broadly.

"So… did we… win?"

"Yes," Anders breathed. "We sure did. All thanks to Nate here."

"Hey Sig," Nathaniel said softly.

"Hey Nate," she answered, a hint of a smile in her raspy voice. "So nice… of you to… swing by and… save the day." She winced. "Sod it, Anders… aren't you… a freakin' healer? How come… I still hurt so much?"

"Well, let the pain be a lesson to you," he scolded her half-heartedly. "You must never do this to me again." His voice started shaking, and he swallowed loudly. "You scared me half to death, Sig…"

"Oh… okay. And… hum… sorry."

"If Nate didn't arrive when he did…" Anders began, shaking his head, and a slight frown creased his brow. "How  _did_  you arrive when you did, by the way? And with reinforcements, no less?"

"I was on my way back from Weisshaupt. They are my escort. The Warden-Commander in the Anderfels sent them with me so I wouldn't travel alone. If you want to know what I think, I believe they are here to spy on us a little. They received a letter from the First Warden that showed great interest in the way our Commander does things here in Ferelden. I think they are curious and want to know more about how things are run here."

"Well, she  _is_  a little… unorthodox, isn't she?" Anders smiled. Sigrun shifted slightly.

"Any… news?"

Anders shook his head. "News?" Nate asked, his eyebrows raised inquisitively.

"The Commander's in the Tower again, with Avernus and the Architect. The Darkspawn were here for him. The Architect, I mean. She told me… what? What is it? Nate, what's wrong?"

Nathaniel had gone pale, and was suddenly frantically searching through a big leather pouch hanging from his belt.

"She's here? Alone?"

"The King got here after the beginning of the battle, with these two friends of theirs… I can't remember the names. They are in there right now."

Nathaniel finally produced a small stack of papers from the pouch, and got on his feet. "All right, Anders, I need you. Come with me, I'll explain on the way. Sigrun, just… just stay here. Get some rest."

"Oh, yeah. Rest. So comfy," she muttered, shifting slightly on the hard, cold stone and wincing in pain. "You go."

"Sorry. I'll be back!" Anders shouted, half-running behind Nathaniel who was already at the keep's gates.

"So, is this the part where I finally learn what has been going on all this time?" Anders asked, trailing behind Nathaniel as they hurriedly crossed the keep, barely acknowledging the cheerful crowd hidden inside that wanted to congratulate them.

"Yes," Nathaniel confirmed. "I'm going to tell you everything. And then I'm going to ask you to perform a miracle. How good are you with glyphs?"


	35. Trust

She was standing up this time. This felt odd, somehow. Her thoughts were much clearer too. She felt like herself again.

Justice was eyeing her with an unreadable expression, his arms crossed on his chest.

"You did it," he finally said. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"I'm sorry, was there any doubt?"

" _I_  had doubts," he said, shifting from one foot to another. "I wondered if you would actually give me this much power over you. Don't you doubt my ability to restrain myself?"

She pondered that for a while. Around her corporeal body, Leliana, Zevran and Alistair were gathering hurriedly, frantically trying to wake her up. The whole scene oddly appeared to happen in slow motion, as if they were all moving in very thick waters.

"I'm dying," she noted, wondering briefly at her lack of fear at this realization. He shook his head.

"Your heart is still beating, albeit weakly. I'm keeping you in a kind of stasis as long as I hold your spirit here. If I were to let you go, however, you would truly die and I could possess your body freely." He looked at her again, searching for something, but she wasn't sure what. "Doesn't that scare you?"

"It doesn't. It may seem very complicated and unfathomable to you, Justice, but to me it's very simple. It's all about trust."

He kept silent for a while.

"Do you trust me, then?" he asked at length. She motioned to her lifeless body, underscoring the truth of her reply.

"With my life," she simply said.

He didn't say anything, lowering his gaze to her body, seemingly deep in thoughts.

"Why?" he finally asked, raising is head to look at her again. "What makes you so sure of me?"

"Because I know you. You are  _good_. Your own perception of justice may be a little extreme by this world's standards, but in your time with us you learned something that can moderate it: perspective. You strive to be better. You're willing to adapt. You already know your strong sense of justice is not absolute, you've already learned about shades of grey."

"Have I? I do not believe you are right about me in this. Your trust seems to have been misplaced."

"It isn't. You had already changed in your short time with us. Remember when we met the Architect? You did not want me to let him live, and you had very good reasons not to. And yet he lives, because you listened to me."

"I still do not believe you made the right choice," he warned. "Do not take my inaction regarding this vile fiend for an acceptance of your decision concerning its survival."

"I'm not. That's exactly what I mean. Perspective. You didn't agree, but you acknowledged I might know more about this, and you submitted to my decision. You respect me. You trust me."

"I do," he said after a pause, turning to look at her body. "With my life as well. You must know I am not entirely certain what will become of me if I do this for you. There has been no sign of the spirit that saved your friend. She might be dead. Saving you might kill me. But I trust you enough to believe it will not make me into the very thing I despise most. You won't let it happen."

"I won't. This makes me trust you as well. This fear you have, this absolute refusal to let yourself be tempted. You'll fight it with all you are. Together, we can do this."

"Do you believe I am going to die?"

"I don't believe you will. It didn't happen when you left Kristoff's body. I don't see why this would kill you. The Fade is a pretty big place, it's easy not to be found."

He nodded. "So. Trust. I understand it."

"All right. Let's save me already."

He extended a hand over her body.

"There's no important damage to your corporeal form yet. It should not be a problem for me to animate the main…" He stopped suddenly, his hand hovering over her abdomen.

"What? Something's wrong with me?" Kaylee asked nervously.

He stood still, his hand over her, his expression unreadable.

"No. Nothing wrong," he finally said in a low voice as he turned to look at her. "You are pregnant."

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Anders pondered as they swiftly crossed the keep. "The Commander's giving her blood to the Architect so that he can continue to free the Darkspawn from the call of the Archdemons."

"Yes. And in exchange for his knowledge of the taint that can cure infected people."

"And no one's worried that we may very well have a load of freakish Mothers on our hands soon? It's just me then?"

"The Commander believes it might be worth it."

"Maybe, but…" He stopped in mid-sentence and extended a hand to grab the papers Nathaniel was still holding. "Anyway, we have more pressing matters, it seems. You found a way to help her?"

"I'm not sure. I was hoping you could tell me. I found these old glyph tracings in the library at Weisshaupt. From what I was able to understand, one of them puts the target in a kind of stasis, preventing any movement, or evolution of any kind. I thought it could keep her alive even if the blood was all out of her body. The other is a kind of healing glyph that allows the blood to regenerate faster. I was wondering if the two could be… combined, somehow."

Anders stared at him incredulously. "And I have to do this now? It's impossible, Nate. I need a lot more time to study these."

They had reached the bridge to the Tower by then. Nathaniel stopped and turned to look at Anders intently.

"You don't have time. We may be already too late as it is. This might be her only chance. Now is the time to be heroic, my friend."

* * *

"Her heart is still beating," Zevran said, his fingers pressed on Kaylee's wrist. "But it is fading. She will not… she can't hold on much longer."

"Breathe, love, please," Alistair whispered, framing her face with his hands. Leliana backed away, hands clasped on her mouth, shaking her head in denial. "It can't be… she can't…" She turned away, seeking refuge in Zevran's arms, who held on to her tightly, hiding his face in the crook of her neck.

"Don't do this to me," Alistair pleaded, his voice low and needful. "You have to fight. I can't go on… I can't do this without you. Please, Kaylee, please fight… breathe… come back…"

The blue light surrounding her flickered briefly, flashing a little brighter for a second, then died, retreating back into her body. Alistair gasped, gripping her hands in his, trying to feel for a pulse with shaking fingers.

"No…" he whispered. "No, no,  _no!_ "

The door flew open as Nathaniel and Anders came barging in.

"I'm here," Nathaniel said. "How is…"

Leliana burst into tears, while Zevran rocked her slowly in his arms, shaking his head silently at Nathaniel. Both men stopped in their tracks, staring in disbelief at the narrow bed and the lifeless body lying too still, and Alistair's crumpled form sobbing quietly over her unmoving chest.

"Her pulse… he murmured desperately. "I can't feel… her pulse… She's not…"

He felt a movement under his hands and looked up at Kaylee's face in shocked wonder.

Her lips were moving, her mouth opening. Her chest was rising slowly.

She was  _breathing_.

"Holy Maker!" he exclaimed, scrambling back in surprise.

Kaylee's eyes opened.

"Your wife is not dead yet," she said. It was still Kaylee's voice, but completely monotone, and her face expressionless. "I can keep her this way, if you will allow it. I assure you, I mean her no harm."

Nathaniel and Anders walked slowly up to the bed as Alistair backed further away in astonishment.

"Justice?" Nathaniel asked softly.

"Yes." Her arms shifted slightly. "I seem to be unable to move."

"You're tied up," Anders pointed out.

"Oh." There was a pause. "Wise precaution."

"And…" Nathaniel trailed. "I guess there are no polite ways to ask you this but… are you a demon now?"

"No." There were traces of anger in the familiar yet utterly strange voice this time. "Although I can reasonably understand if some of you do not believe me. I would, however, very much like to be untied."

"I believe you," Nathaniel said, reaching for the shackles that bound her to the bed. "We talked about this already, do you remember? In doing this, you're giving instead of taking. I'm glad you were able to save her."

"Wait." Alistair's voice was ice cold. "It's not your decision to make, Nathaniel."

Nate's hands hesitated briefly on the locks before letting go. "You're right."

"Demons… they are tricky little beasts," Zevran added, his voice calm but his eyes gleaming with rage. "We cannot accept what this one says as face value, even if it seems sincere."

"But he's saving her, isn't he?" Leliana objected. "Surely this is not the doing of a demon."

"How is that even possible?" Anders asked. "I thought only mages could be possessed."

"She knows of the spirit warrior's way," Justice said dully. "Her body draws from the Fade. It is not as mages do, but it can be used for possession."

"Can… can I talk to her?" Alistair asked hesitantly. Justice shook her head.

"She's deeply unconscious. Even I can't speak to her now. This is not unlike animating a dead body. There is no conscious resistance."

"But she's still there," Alistair said.

"Yes."

"The spirit warrior's way… was that what we saw earlier?"

"When she draws from the Fade, her whole body starts glowing," Nathaniel explained. "A bluish white light surrounds her, moves around her and lashes out with bright tentacles. Is that what you saw?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Then yes, it was."

"She needs to activate it? It's not an automated response to something? Danger, for example?" Alistair asked. Nathaniel shook his head.

"From what she explained to me, no, it isn't. It's a conscious choice."

"Why did she do it then?"

Justice opened her mouth, but Alistair gestured him to stay silent.

"I don't want to hear it from you, spirit. I don't trust anything you say right now."

Justice stayed silent.

"I don't know for certain," Anders ventured. "But from what I understand, I believe she could not be possessed if her body was not drawing from the Fade. She's not a mage, it's not always in her. Her link to the Fade is an ability. It comes from something she learned to do, not something she is, like us mages."

"So she had to do this, consciously, to be possessed. She made the choice." Alistair surmised, his tone thoughtful.

"I believe so, yes."

Alistair turned back to the bed, eyeing Justice carefully. "She trusts you."

Justice said nothing.

"Alistair…" Nathaniel began. "We might have another possible solution if…"

Alistair raised a hand to silence him, still deep in thought. He looked up at him and their gazes met, a strong, silent understanding passing between the two men.

"Untie her," Alistair finally said.

"Are you sure about this, my friend?" Zevran asked, clasping a hand on Alistair's shoulder. Alistair turned to look at Kaylee while Nathaniel busied himself with the shackles.

"I don't have to be, Zev.  _She_  is."

"Once she's more comfortable, I can still do this regenerating glyph for her. It might speed up her recovery," Anders said, looking down at the papers he was still holding. Alistair nodded.

"Can you… walk?" he asked Justice.

"Yes. She needs to lie still for a while, though."

"I'll have a room prepared." Anders said. "In fact, I'll have rooms prepared for all of you. And for our guests from Weisshaupt, I suppose. Nate, wanna go outside and see how things are going?"

"All right," Nathaniel answered. "Just… give me a minute here." Another locked shackle clicked open.

"We'll take care of things here, send this one on his merry way" Zevran said, motioning towards the unmoving form of the Architect. "The sooner he's out of the picture, the better, I say."

The last of the chains hit the floor and Justice slowly got up, moving with caution. Alistair rushed to her side, taking her by the arm.

"There's no need for that. I'm only adjusting," Justice protested.

"I know," Alistair said. "It's just… it's so good to see her walking."

Justice looked at him for a long time, her expression softening visibly. She raised a hand and gently cupped Alistair's cheek, leaning a little towards him.

"You must know," she said in a hoarse voice, "how deeply she loves you."

"I do," Alistair smiled. "But thanks for that."


	36. Aftermath

The Architect woke up to the feel of cold steel on his throat.

"Oh, good. You are awaking. Soon you'll be on your way then. You're all packed and ready to go." The blade pressed more firmly against his neck, enforcing the order. "Get up."

Still a bit stunned, he got to his feet with some difficulty, Zevran's sword following his every move. He looked drained, weak and lightly dizzy. Leliana shoved a leather bag in his arms, the movement making the glass inside ring softly. He clung to it, pressing it to his chest as he looked around in confusion.

"What… happened?"

"Well, you did something really stupid and then almost died. I am ashamed to say that you probably owe both of us your life. Avernus is well, by the way… or he will be, shortly."

"Shiny!" Avernus exclaimed, still sitting in a pool of blood, staring at the ceiling and clapping his hands excitedly. "Make the pretty lights shine again!" Zevran shook his head, his gaze intent on the Architect.

"It is truly a testimony to his high intellect that he can still formulate semi-coherent sentences with the powerful substances that flow in his blood at the moment. Oh, and we will keep the cure, thank you very much."

The Architect bowed his head, shaking it slightly in defeat, before looking up again.

"And… the Commander?"

"She lives as well. Everybody is alive. Isn't it a wonderful day?" Leliana said, but the coldness of her tone did not match the playfulness of the words. Zevran motioned towards the door with one hand, his other keeping the sword on the Architect's throat. "Out. Now."

They crossed the deserted keep, Leliana and Zevran on each side of the Architect, weapons drawn. When the wooden double doors opened before them to let them outside, the stench emanating from the courtyard made the three of them gag and hold their breath. One hand over his mouth, the other clutching at the leather bag, the Architect gazed upon the grounds in shock.

Pyres, huge roaring pyres were scattered everywhere, with dozens of Darkspawn cadavers burning on each of them. Nathaniel, Anders and Sigrun were standing at the top of the stairs, hatred and disgust plain on their faces as they looked at him. Down the stairs, from the end of the steps to the huge and now broken courtyard gates, Grey Wardens were standing at attention, two ranks facing each other, the space in between forming a narrow way.

The Architect froze upon seeing this mockery of an honour guard waiting for him. Zevran pushed him mercilessly with the flat of his sword towards Nathaniel, who took a step forward to meet him, his eyes hard.

"These Grey Wardens," he said to him, his voice low and angry, gesturing to the men standing to attention below, "just tore an entire Darkspawn horde to pieces. And you are going to walk among them. They will see your face, feel your taint. And I promise you this: if, in any way, you abuse the powers of this blood that was freely given to you; if we hear only a rumour that you're building yourself an army of intelligent Darkspawn or that you attacked any human settlement, if we so much as catch whispers of another Mother you are unwilling to take care of yourself,  _I will unleash them upon you_. They will track you down relentlessly, destroying every monster in their way, until they get to you, until they find you and end your pathetic existence for good." He stepped aside, clearing the stairs. "The only thing that kept you alive today is the promise of peace you brought with you. You better make it happen. Now  _leave_. Don't make us come after you."

The Architect got down the stairs slowly, and walked straight in the middle of the Warden ranks, his head held high, looking straight ahead. The ranks closed behind him, the Wardens getting closer to him as he reached the gates. He kept walking until he finally was on the mountain path, and he heard the Wardens break formation behind him. He stopped, then, and looked down at the pack in his hands. He allowed himself a small smile.

This was still a victory.

* * *

Sigrun collapsed to the ground as soon as the Architect was out of sight.

"Someone take this heavy armour off of me," she sighed, her hands weakly tugging at the leather straps. "Anders, I think I opened the wound again."

"I told you not to do this," Anders scolded, kneeling next to her and unbuckling her armour. He whistled softly upon seeing the blood soaking her undershirt again. "I hope it was worth it."

They exchanged a glance, and Anders had to smile at the little twinkle glinting in her eyes. She winked at him and he shook his head in mocked disapproval.

"Did you see his face?" she laughed. "It was worth getting out of my death bed all right. Besides, you're the one that said we shouldn't let him see how much we've lost in the battle. I think he believes us invincible now… ow!"

"Sorry," Anders said hastily, applying another compress to the wound. "Now you go rest, and no protests! I want you on your feet again as soon as possible! There's no way I can run this place alone for long!"

Anders looked down at the courtyard and his smile disappeared. The aftermath of the battle was brutally gruesome. Wardens and merchants had resumed piling up Darkspawn corpses on the pyres, while others were preparing fallen Wardens for their final rest. Someone had already left for the nearest village to fetch the Revered Mother for the ceremony. There was no one talking, or even sobbing. Aside from the roaring fires and the clanking noises of armour being dragged, there was only an eerie, solemn silence.

One of the Wardens from Weisshaupt was climbing the stairs, heading towards them. Nathaniel went to him and they firmly shook hands.

"Anders, Sigrun, this is Senior Warden Eckart, from Weisshaupt."

"You Fereldans sure know how to make a Warden feel welcome," Eckart quipped, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. "We were told you could use some help here."

"Well, you were told right," Anders said, getting to his feet and extending a hand. Eckart shook it strongly. "We are very grateful for your timely arrival."

"Very," Sigrun nodded, grimacing, a hand pressed on her bandage.

"We received a letter from the First Warden informing us that there were some… unusual events occurring in Ferelden, and that we were to lend any support needed. Is this…" He paused, gesturing to the courtyard and the path the Architect had taken, "… kind of thing a frequent occurrence here?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Nathaniel said. "The Blight has left us with a real interesting mess to clean up."

"I see." Eckart seemed to ponder that for a while. "Well, the First Warden did specify that we were not to judge based on appearances. When can I meet this fabled Warden-Commander of yours?"

"She's… indisposed at the moment. We will let you know as soon as she feels better, of course," Nathaniel said courteously. "What other news did you receive from the First Warden? I must say he did make a lasting impression during his brief visit here."

"He sent word to the fortress that we were to find a successor for him," Eckart said sombrely. "He went to his Calling."

Nathaniel said nothing, but his eyes briefly flickered towards the tower before he bowed his head in respect.

"I have arranged for lodging for you and your men, Senior Warden," Anders said, gesturing to one of the Wardens to come and join them. "Someone will escort you right away."

"Thank you," Eckart bowed, then gestured his men to follow as he took his leave, entering the keep with his guide. Anders turned to Nathaniel.

"Well that's a new attitude from Weisshaupt Wardens," he said, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "I think I like it!"

"You better," Nathaniel said. "They look like they are here to stay."

* * *

Zevran and Leliana had gone back inside the keep as soon as the Architect was down the steps. They had other messes to clean up. They crossed the keep in silence, Leliana walking in front and Zevran following a few steps behind. When they got to the bridge's door, Leliana paused, a hand on the knob. She sighed and closed her eyes briefly before turning around to face him.

"I heard you, you know. When you talked to Alistair. I heard you putting yourself forward as a sacrifice to save her life."

"Leliana…" Zevran whispered, raising a hand to caress her cheek. She batted his hand away.

"Do not touch me," she warned. "You still wish to die? What we are to each other, it doesn't mean anything to you? It isn't enough to live for? You weren't even going to talk to me about this?"

"There was no time _, cara_. You know this. And you know how I feel about you. I just could not let her die. I owe her too much."

"You don't owe her your  _life_. She would never have had asked this of you. She would have been so mad at you."

"Maybe, but she would have been alive. I do owe her my life,  _cara_. You know how I was, how I felt, when we first met each other. She did not only spare my life, she gave me reason to keep on living. This kind of debt… it cannot be erased. I cannot be released from it. And I don't know... I don't know how to even start repaying her. It is weighing on me. Always."

Leliana stared at him hard for a long while, a guarded expression on her face.

"It isn't that I don't understand, Zev. Believe me, I do. It's just…" She shook her head. "Maybe we should… talk about it some other time. Let ourselves cool off a bit."

"But you know how I feel about you, yes? How important you are to me?"

"I do," she smiled, but he saw with worry that the smile did not quite reach her eyes.

She turned around to open the door and they crossed the bridge in an even deeper silence than before. Inside the tower, they found Avernus giggling, happily drawing some strange symbols on the floor with the blood that was still surrounding him.

"Oh, no, this won't do at all," Zevran said hastily. "This has potential for true danger."

"Hey, Avernus," Leliana said softly, as if she was addressing a child. "How do you feel?"

Avernus seemed to ponder that for a while.

"Hungry," he finally said, looking up at her.

"All right, wanna come with me to the kitchen?" she said, extending a hand.

He nodded, grabbing her hand, and stood up. "I need to… to change, first," he mumbled, walking behind some screens and unbuttoning his bloody robes.

"He already looks like he's beginning to come back to his senses. Most impressive," Zevran said, his eyebrows arched.

"Well I'm going to take him to the kitchens, keep him out of your way. It should give you enough time to clean up."

"Yes. Some blood, two bodies. It shouldn't be too long. Will you… will you meet me in our room, afterwards?"

She looked at him and he saw with relief her expression softened visibly.

"Yes. Of course."

* * *

Alistair did not leave Kaylee's side. He watched over her resting form as the light coming from the bedroom's window grew dimmer as the day went by, until full darkness finally settled in. Someone brought him a tray of food at some point. He barely took any for himself, letting Justice eat most of it. The spirit didn't talk to him much, letting Kaylee's body rest as much as possible. Alistair was kneeling by the bed, his arms resting upon the mattress, his fingers intertwined with hers.

That's how Anders found him when he entered the room later that night.

"Any changes?" he asked softly, closing the door behind him. Alistair shook his head, his gaze not leaving Kaylee's face.

"So I've studied the glyph tracings Nate brought," Anders said, taking place in one of the chairs at the foot of the bed. Alistair's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"That was quick."

"Yeah, well that's not exactly a good sign."

Alistair sighed audibly. "It wouldn't have worked."

"No," Anders confirmed. "The stasis glyph would have overpowered the healing glyph, paralysing the regeneration of the blood as well. They can't be combined." He paused, staring at Alistair intently. "But you couldn't possibly have known that, could you?"

"I didn't. I didn't even know what Nate had in mind."

"And yet you let it happen. You set him free." Anders shook his head. "You were almost a Templar, so I really don't think I have to lecture you on the dangers. You're aware of them, maybe even more than I am. I just want you to know, I really, really want to. I've got that whole speech prepared."

"Not necessary." Alistair smiled tiredly. "I know of the dangers very well. It's not up to me. She trusts him, and I trust her. It's as simple as that."

"I can still… trace that regenerating glyph. It should work well on its own."

"Do it," Alistair nodded as he stiffly got on his feet and stepped back, stretching. "The sooner she's back to her former, lovely self, the better. For everyone."

Anders got on his knees and set to work, tracing the glyph around and under the bed where Kaylee was lying still. When the drawing was done he slapped his open hand on the ground, and the glyph started glowing in a faint blue light.

"For what it's worth, your Majesty," Anders said, getting to his feet, "I know Justice well. I do believe he's worthy of her trust."

Alistair looked at him for a long time, an unreadable expression on his face, before extending a hand and shaking the other man's firmly. "Thank you," he said softly, before turning away. Careful not to disrupt the drawing, he knelt next to the bed again and took Kaylee's hand back in his.

A soft smile played on Anders's lips as he gently closed the door behind him. It was heart-warming, really, to see that his amazing Commander had found a man so worthy of her love, a man to love her back as deeply as this one did. If such a love could exist, then surely all hope was not lost.


	37. A new Hope

The next morning, Kaylee opened her eyes.

Alistair was asleep beside her, on his knees beside the bed, his head cradled in his arms on the mattress. She smiled as she gently ran her fingers through his hair. He awoke with a start, and his eyes widened upon seeing her awake.

"Hum… Justice?" he asked hesitantly. She chuckled and shook her head.

"Oh, Kaylee, it's you," he breathed, and leaned in to kiss her. She stopped his movement by putting both her hands on his shoulders, frowning a little. He looked at her worriedly.

"Is something wrong? Are you feeling dizzy?"

"No, not at all. I feel… rested." Her surprise at the answer registered in her voice. "No weakness, no dizziness, no soreness. It's just…" She paused, looking confused, and Alistair watched in horror her face went suddenly white. "I'm going to…" she managed to say, before turning her head abruptly and throwing up all the content of her stomach over the opposite edge of the bed.

"Well that was… not what I expected," Alistair said, retrieving a towel from the cupboard next to the stone bath and wetting it in the washbasin before bringing it to her. "Are you sure you're not dizzy from the blood loss?"

She wiped her mouth and shot him an apologetic glance. "No, not at all. I don't know…" She suddenly stopped and her eyes widened as she seemed to recall something. A huge, ecstatic smile slowly stretched her lips. "Oh, that's right…" she mumbled happily.

"What?" Alistair asked suspiciously. "Is throwing up a good thing now? Because I don't see how…" He stopped, staring at her in shock as comprehension dawned on him.

"Really?" he whispered, and there was so much incredulous joy in that one word she felt herself tear up. She smiled at him through tears of happiness, nodding wordlessly.

"Oh, Maker…" he murmured in a hoarse voice, leaning again to kiss her. She stopped him by putting a hand over her own mouth and making a disgusted grimace. He settled for kissing her forehead, pressing his lips against her skin firmly, his eyes shut tight, and she felt his tears roll on her cheeks. His hand came resting upon her belly, almost protectively.

"Is it… is it okay? Did it get hurt when…?"

She shook her head.

"No. Justice told me it's fine. He's taking care of that too."

She did her best to ignore the doubt and fear that his face betrayed for less than a second, before he wrapped her up in his arms, laughing in her ear.

"You make me so happy," he whispered. "We're gonna be so happy."

It sounded like a promise. An oath.

Or a prayer.

* * *

The good news spread quickly, although quietly, and everyone of their friends stopped by the recovery room for a bit of the joyful but hushed celebration. There were still some things they didn't want the Wardens from Weisshaupt to know. Like the fact that the Commander of the Grey was untainted. And pregnant. And possessed. That was just too much to handle all at once for the poor Senior Warden Eckart, they assumed. With the welcoming committee that had awaited them upon their arrival at the keep, they deserved to take things slow for a while.

So after a few days of rest and quiet celebration, Kaylee and Alistair's departure was organized in secrecy. It was all hushed tones and smuggled supplies for a few days, until they finally departed at night, silently, discreetly. Anders left with them, to keep an eye on Kaylee's health during the trip as well as to draw the regenerating glyph again under her bed at the castle. That left Sigrun with the very delicate task to explain to the Wardens that the Commander had left the keep without meeting with them.

"To be a fly on the wall and witness this conversation," Anders sighed regretfully. "I told her to feign a sudden weakness due to her injury if things got out of hand."

Kaylee laughed out loud at that image. Sigrun was great at a lot of things, but acting certainly wasn't one of them.

Their arrival at the capital was as discreet as their departure, and they all quickly fell back into a familiar routine. Anders stayed only for a short while, returning to the keep after promising frequent visits to the happy future parents. Nathaniel, Leliana and Zevran settled back in their old rooms with no small amount of relief.

Kaylee's recovery was going better than anyone could have ever imagined. She felt no pain, no weakness or dizziness, none of the side effect that she could have expected under the circumstances. People kept complimenting her on how well she looked, and some of them actually commented thoughtfully that she seemed to  _glow_. Rumours of her pregnancy started circulating long before the news could be officially announced. The day Alistair got to announce in front of all of the Landsmeet that they were expecting an heir was one of the proudest moments of his life. Fergus actually cried as he hugged his sister tightly, making her promise to come visit him with his nephew or niece as quickly and as often as possible.

Kaylee was revelling in her own happiness. Never since before the murder of her family had things been so utterly perfect. She had her friends close to her, she was married to the man of her dreams, and they had a long and happy life waiting for them, with the promise of a large family and without the dark shadow of the Calling hanging over their heads.

Life was good.

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Your Majesty?" Nathaniel asked wryly, closing the door to her study behind him.

"Don't you dare call me that," she warned him playfully, throwing a ball of crumpled paper he evaded with ease.

"Well the summoning was so… formal, I figured the title had finally gone to your head," he teased.

"Well, this is official business, I'll grant you that." Her tone recovered some seriousness and he was immediately alerted.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"No, of course not, nothing wrong. I'm… ah… I'm stepping down as Warden-Commander. This is the official paperwork that names you as my successor."

She handed him a stack of paper. He took it from her, realizing with surprise that his hands were slightly shaking.

"What? I mean, I thought… well, since Anders did such a fine job against the attack on the peak, I believed…"

Kaylee nodded. "Yes, he was quite impressive, but there's more to being Warden Commander than winning battles, even if it's… well… strongly advised that you be able to do so." She smiled. "It requires a lot more than that. Eloquence. Charisma. Knowledge of politics. Tact. A levelled head and a strong heart. I really believe you are the most suited candidate." She winked at him. "Probably even more so than me." She stood up and went around the desk, leaning back on it. "This is it, Nate. Your best chance. Nathaniel Howe, Commander of the Grey. With Delilah in charge of a part of Amaranthine, I'd say the Howe name is well underway to being as respected and honourable as it once was."

He was shocked beyond words. Kaylee's face creased in worry as she watched him struggle for words.

"Oh, Nate, don't cry," she breathed.

"I'm not… crying," he protested, but the words died on his lips when he suddenly realized that he really was. Without another word, he took a step towards her and hugged her fiercely.

"Thank you," he finally managed to whisper in a strangled voice, and she felt tears well up in her eyes as well. She bit back a sob, felt him tense in her arms.

"Are you… crying?" he asked, traces of laughter in his voice.

"No…" she drawled, hugging him closer to keep her face hidden. He chuckled. "It's these damn hormones…" she muttered, wiping her eyes discreetly. He patted her on the back before gently letting her go.

"Does that… does that mean I have to leave the castle?"

"Well, Alistair and I were thinking, you see. It's about time the Grey Wardens start maintaining a permanent presence in the capital. There will be a space in the castle's barracks especially reserved for Grey Wardens, with an adjacent training ground. So it would be only fitting that the Warden-Commander take up residence at the palace, wouldn't you say?"

He smiled. "Yes. Very fitting indeed."

* * *

"How did it go?" Alistair asked her when Kaylee joined him in their bedchambers.

"He was really happy," she answered, smiling. "I think he wasn't expecting it, which… baffles me to no end, honestly. I thought it was obvious I'd choose him."

"Well, maybe it wasn't that obvious to him," Alistair pointed out. He went to stand behind her, unlacing the back of her dress, and she sighed in relief when the pressure of the fabric loosened. "I'm not even showing yet and my clothes already don't fit me as they used to. I think I'm just getting fat," she complained. He laughed at her and made her turn so she faced him.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, gently brushing his nose against hers. She raised herself on tiptoes to kiss him tenderly, wrapping her arms around his neck. He grabbed her by the waist and whirled her around, making her gasp into the kiss and laugh helplessly against his shoulder.

"See? You're as light as air," he teased her, putting her back down. She shook her head, still laughing.

"It's just that you're so strong, Your Majesty," she said enticingly, pouting in a seductive manner. He caught her pouting lips with his in a tender kiss.

"Only because you are my strength," he whispered against her mouth and she sighed in delight, melting into him.

* * *

Zevran got into his room one night to find Leliana packing hurriedly. He froze mid-step, a hand still on the knob of the door. She interrupted her work to raise her head, looking at him guiltily.

"Are we going somewhere?" he asked hesitantly, closing the door behind him. She shook her head, her gaze lowered to her hands as they resumed stuffing clothes in her bag.

"No…" she said in a low voice. "I mean… yes. I mean…" She sighed, resting her hand on her closed stuffed bag. "I left you a note," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Fear coiled in Zevran's stomach like a snake, cold and heavy. He took a step towards her, but stopped when she raised her head to look at him and he was faced with the raging desperation in her eyes.

"You're leaving me?" he asked, his voice strangely devoid of emotion. She bit her lip, looking away.

"I love you," she said, her voice quavering. He let out a humourless chuckle.

"I do," Leliana said more firmly. "This is why I'm leaving. And you need to leave too, Zevran. There are things you need to be doing."

He raised his eyebrows at that, but kept silent.

"I thought I was helping you," she said her voice pleading. "I though I could do for you what the Chantry and our friends did for me. I thought I was helping you move on, to be at peace with yourself. But I'm clearly not. You're trying so hard to be where I am, but inner peace is not something that can be forced. You need more, Zevran, more than I can offer. You need to find self-respect. You need closure. I can't give it to you. You have to get it for yourself."

"So that's it, then?" he asked in a harsh voice. "You're giving up on me?"

"On the contrary," she answered, a desperate edge to her voice. "I'm giving you what you need. Freedom."

"I don't want it," he spat. "Do not put this on me,  _cara_. You've had enough of the emotionally disturbed assassin and now you're running away. The things you said to me, it was all lies! I knew I did not deserve happiness, I've always known, and you shoved it in my face just to take it away again! Go if you want but stop lying to me!"

"I'm not lying. I never did, and you know that. You're just proving my point, Zev… You think so little of yourself. You think you're unworthy of love, of friendship. You think your life is worthless. And even if I said I love you a thousand more times, it would not make a difference, would it?"

He stepped back as if her words had physically struck him.

"Well why don't you tell me what I'm worth, then, Leliana?" he yelled at her, his fragile composure cracking. "Because I'm clearly not worth fighting for, and I'm clearly not worth staying for either!"

"Don't say that," she whispered, taking a step towards him. "That's not true."

He backed away from her. "Don't…" he breathed, the anger on his face slowly giving way to pain, as she stopped her movement then turned away slowly, grabbing her pack and throwing it over her shoulder.

"I love you…" he said to her back in a low, hoarse voice. She paused, inhaled sharply between clenched teeth, and in a second the pack hit the floor as she ran to him.

"Damn it," she breathed as her mouth found his in a hungry, desperate kiss. He wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her back fiercely, holding on to her with all his strength. He felt it in her kiss, her love and passion for him. He tasted it on her lips, along with the saltiness of the tears she had been crying while packing. He heard it in her gasp, in the soft moan she did not quite succeed in muffling. He saw it in her eyes before she closed them under the savage assault of his lips. He felt it in her touch when her hands slid in his hair, gripping and pulling him closer.

"Damn you," she sighed, breaking away and resting her forehead against his cheek. "Damn your low voice and sexy accent, damn your rugged good looks and soft hair, damn your kind hands and strong heart."

"Well… right back at you," he breathed, and she chuckled softly.

"Couldn't you let me do this right?"

"What? Leave me? Of course not. I am nothing without you."

"That's not true, Zev. But you need to figure that out by yourself. Don't you see?"

"What would you have me do?"

"Go back to Antiva. Do whatever you need to do to get some closure, to finally be able to leave the past behind. Do it by yourself, so you can finally see what you can do, what you're worth. And then… if you still want to… come back to me. I promise I'll wait as long as it takes. I won't care what you'll have done. I'll forgive everything. If you still love me then… we'll see."

"Where are you going?"

"Back to Orlais, I think. But I'm not worried. Wherever I am, if you want to find me… you'll find me. Wherever I am, know that I'll be waiting."

She picked up her pack again and turned to face him. She kissed him, a soft, tender kiss goodbye.

"You need to do this, Zev."

A lingering, loving gaze, a last light caress on his cheek, and she was gone. He was left staring helplessly at the empty doorframe.

"Damn it," he murmured, shaking his head. "She is right. She always is."

* * *

Months later, as she was nearing her due date, Kaylee woke up one morning and sat up straight in her bed. Something was… wrong. It took her a moment to understand what it was.

Awakened by her sudden movement, Alistair rolled over and looked at her pale face through half-opened eyes. He groaned.

"Are you going to be sick again? I thought we were past this stage. You know I love you, but holding your hair while you throw up every morning is hard to go through on an empty stomach."

"I'm not going to be sick. Although… thank you for the show of support. It's… something else."

Alistair was immediately completely awake.

"Is something wrong? What is it? Is it the baby? Did I hurt it? I told you I would hurt it!"

She shook her head.

"It's not the baby. It's… Justice. He's… he's gone. I can't feel him anymore."

"Oh. It's… it's a good thing, right? It means you're all better, doesn't it?"

"I guess…" she said hesitantly. "But what happened to him? I don't even know if he's all right…"

"Aren't you supposed to see Anders this morning for a consultation? Maybe you can speak to him about it. Mages know stuff about spirits, don't they?"

"Maybe…" she said worriedly. "Alistair, what if…" She left the sentence unfinished, her hand almost involuntarily reaching up to stroke her pregnant belly. Alistair's eyes followed his movement and they widened slightly at the implication.

"What if he's not  _really_  gone, you mean? Wouldn't you feel it?" he asked.

"I don't know…" she breathed.

He took both her hands in his and kissed them tenderly, one after the other.

"Listen to me," he said fervently. "Whatever comes, we'll deal. If there's one thing we know for sure by now, it's that we can overcome anything. Archdemons, blights, talking Darkspawn, spirits and demons, massive loss of blood or scary pregnancies… As long as we are together, what can stand in our way?"

She smiled tenderly at him. "You're right. How can you be so right all the time?"

"It's a gift. And a burden. Now kiss your husband before that damned chambermaid come barging in to take you away again."

She chuckled softly as she leaned closer to him.

"Your desire is my command."


End file.
